Perfection
by theatrefreak1
Summary: Stiles can't stand how imperfect he is to everyone and everything...especially to Derek. But what he doesn't really know is just how perfect he is to Derek. Derek just can't get himself to show it. The two try to figure things out before they both ruin themselves. Rate MA for future chapters and self harm. I do not own Teen wolf or any affiliated content associated with Teen Wolf.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everybody, this is my very first attempt at a fanfic thing so I apologize if I completely suck at it. I have been addicted to Sterek though, so I figured why the hell not. If this sounds like a cliché kinda situation I apoligize. Whatevs though. Please please please please Review AND Comment! I would like to know how to actually write fanfic!**

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Stiles' eyes jolted open after yet another quickly vanishing nightmare. His sheets were damp with sweat, and there was no other sound save for the wind rustling through the trees outside, his racing heart, and his panting. Rolling onto his side, he gazed at his alarm clock on his desk.

4:00am…

_Fuck…_

Stiles turned again trying to find a comfortable position, only to find it as uncomfortable as the first. Sighing in exasperation he threw his comforter off his still sweaty body and swung his legs over the side of the bed, resting his head in his hands. _Today is going to be yet another long ass day…_he thought to himself. Getting up from his bed, Stiles stalked off to the bathroom down the hall, closing the door before he flicked on the light. He stood over the toilet, relieving himself, before he turned to the sink. Turning on the water to a scalding temperature, he began to scrub his hands, letting the water sear his mind into focus.

Only when his hands and fingers were raw, red, and throbbing did he cool the water down, and splash his face, wincing as the water stung his still bruised cheek. _Ugh… that fucker._ Gerard Argent's face flashed across his memory, and his cheek throbbed in remembrance of being beaten by the old man.

Stiles sighed. The memory served to stir something from his nightmare back to mind. Something about running through the woods, trying to find something while being chased by something else. Stiles had no idea why, but whatever he was looking for in the woods seemed direly important—so important that he was willing to risk his safety to get to it… regardless of what chased him.

_Just let it go…It's not worth dwelling over,_ Stiles thought. He looked in the mirror, his eyes trailing over the bruised cheek, chapped lips, pale skin, and dull eyes. The violet shadows under his eyes were becoming more prominent with each passing day. It had been two weeks since Gerard's disappearance, two weeks since Jackson ceased to be the Kanima, and two weeks since everything returned to "normal".

_That's the thing, _Stiles chuckled to himself._ Everything is normal for everyone else… all except for me. _Allison decided that she couldn't be without Scott, so the happy couple was now back to being attached at the hip. Lydia reverted back to pretending Stiles didn't exist, and was now on Allison's level with Jackson. Jackson was thrilled about being a werewolf, and unfortunately sought every opportunity to make his abilities known to Stiles. Then there was Derek, who was being…well Derek.

Derek had been avoiding the group of teens, hiding out in his burnt out shell of a house with Isaac as his only companion. He was upset about Erica and Boyd leaving, but hell, there was nothing anyone could have done about that.

Stiles was surprised to find himself a bit angered that Isaac was alone with Derek, probably being able to be let in on secrets, getting praised for the fight against Gerard and the Kanima, being in Derek's presence.

Derek… Stiles pictured those hazel eyes, the obsidian black hair, the strong jaw, broad shoulders…Derek…He inhaled deeply. Derek was someone completely foreign to Stiles, and he had no idea why. Not that Derek would give him the time of day. Stiles looked back at himself in the mirror. _Why would _anyone_ give me the time of day? There's nothing special about me. Hell I got the shit kicked out of me by a seventy-year-old man… I'm weak…incompetent…ugly…weak...stupid…clumsy…weak…sk inny…useless…human…weak...  
imperfect..._

The negative stream of thoughts familiarly fluttered through his head with ferocity. No one would give him the time of day. He didn't deserve it. He was unworthy of it. Obviously that was why no one bothered to find him when Gerard took him. Obviously that was why he didn't exist to anyone…Not to Scott, not to his friends…Not to Derek.

Stiles could feel the tears building. Before they could spill over he slapped himself on his good cheek. Immediately, he left the bathroom and crept back to his room, avoiding the creaky floorboards so he wouldn't wake his dad. He needed his usual distraction. Stiles lumbered over to his desk finding the familiar small box next to his computer. The moonlight that had glimmered through the window provided more than enough light to allow him to see. Lifting the lid of the box, Stiles spied the object of his desire.

It looked so beautiful—beautiful and delightfully threatening. The glinting object could offer him his release. Gripping the razor gingerly in his hand, Stiles inhaled, and brought the blade to his bare ribcage.

_P…_

The pain seared wonderfully as Stiles carved the first letter into the flesh of his side. Blood began to trickle down, and with it Stiles could feel his self-loathing flow with it.

_E…_

The pain grew more intense.

_R…_

Stiles whimpered in agony as he dug deeper and deeper into his flesh with every slice of each letter, but he didn't dare stop. The relief was so far beyond worth the minor pain.

_F…_

_E…_

Stiles dug deeper._ Holy fuck this hurts._ This wasn't the first time Stiles had cut, but before it was only one or two minor scratches. Stiles had never even drawn blood with his previous attempts. He never had reason too. Now, however, Stiles had to prove to himself that he could take pain. That he could forget about being forgotten each and every day of his miserable life. He had to scar perfection into his flesh, so that maybe one day, he actually would be perfect for someone…anyone… Not the worthless shell he is now.

_C…_

_T…_

Stiles let the blade fall from his hand, and inhaled deeply. Blood trickled down his side in multiple tides. Crimson forked the right half of his torso, staining his briefs and dripping onto the floor. _Shit, now I have to clean that up. _

He stalked angrily to the bathroom, returning after a quick rummage in the cabinet under the sink, bringing back his first aid kit, some paper towels, and some all-purpose cleaner.

After he had patched himself up with some gauze and bandages, and the blood was clean from the floor, Stiles collapsed on his bed. _Maybe things will be different today…Maybe I will matter._ Who was Stiles kidding? Nothing would change. He was sure of that. Lydia was gone, Scott was gone, and Derek was gone… Derek…Derek…

Stiles couldn't get the werewolf out of his head. Sure he had been attracted to other guys before like Danny, and of course there was Lydia. Stiles had even had a thing for Scott for the earlier part of their childhood. But Derek… He was something completely intriguing to Stiles—something intriguing and off-limits.

Stiles crawled under his sheets, and sighed. _Derek could never, and would never want someone like me. No one could. Not until I'm perfect. _

With that last thought, Stiles gripped the bandages on his side, and slowly turned over wincing as they stung. He began to hum the familiar lullaby that his mother used to sing to him as he prepared to wait out the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry this chapter is so long! I just wanted to get the exposition out of the way before I get to the good stuff, and I think I did just that. Please continue to let me know if I'm doing this right. Love anything you have to offer and thanks for reading! 3**

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Derek perched elegantly on the outer sill of Stiles' window as he peered in at the sleeping boy. Stiles was tossing and turning, discomfort evident in his features, and the smells of stress and fear emanated from the window like smoke from a fire. He heard the boy's rapid heartbeat.

Derek's brow furrowed in frustration, and the wolf inside him begged him to open the window and go comfort the boy. Neither Derek nor his wolf liked the negative smells that tainted Stiles' normal scent. His normal scent was, for lack of a better word, intoxicating. Derek couldn't for the life of him pinpoint what exactly described Stiles' scent; it was as light and crisp as rain, yet soft and fresh like the morning which lay just a few hours ahead. Derek peeked at his watch.

3:57am.

The sun hadn't yet begun to rise, and the moon hadn't set yet, so everything was bathed in a gentle and pearly white. Derek knew he should be taking his leave soon, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving the boy alone to face his nightmare. The wolf inside growled at Derek, demanding that he enter the house and wrap his arms around the boy.

In all honesty, there was nothing more that Derek wanted to do. The only problem was he had no idea how. He had never been involved with anyone since Kate. Everything Derek became involved with somehow ended badly; everything he touched began to burn. There was no place for someone such as himself in the life of a boy like Stiles.

Derek huffed a sigh, and leapt down from his perch, running home moments before Stiles jolted awake.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Stiles pulled his jeep into a space in the school parking lot. Beacon Hills High was already teeming with life, though Stiles had no idea why. For fuck's sake it was a Monday morning. Why anyone would want to be awake and cheery was beyond him.

Stiles was already exhausted, and it was only 7:15 in the morning. _Only seven more hours to go…_Stiles looked in his rearview mirror._ Smile. You'll make it through the day in one piece,_ he lied to himself.

With that, Stiles pulled his bag out of the back seat and climbed out of the jeep. Once inside, Stiles dumped his homework into his locker.

_BAM!_

"Mother fucking Christ!" Stiles world around to see a red-faced Scott, laughing uncontrollably.

"Good morning princess," Scott remarked. "What's up? You're like a thousand miles away over here. Rough night?"

"You could say that." Stiles replied.

"That's nice," Scott ignored Stiles' response. "Hey, do you think Allison will like these? I picked them on the way here."

_Of course…_Stiles groaned internally. "Scott, those are dandelions."

"No shit Sherlock, but it's the thought that counts right? I mean what girl doesn't love being thought of each and every minute of the day… I mean honestly Allison told me the other day how she thought it was just so cute how…"

Stiles wasn't even listening anymore. He knew if he kept Scott talking with a few 'hmmms' and 'uh-huhs' he could make it to Chemistry without even listening to what the lovesick idiot had to say. After all, Scott didn't give two shits about his night last night so why the hell should Stiles give half a shit for what Allison told him the other day blah blah blah.

Mr. Harris groaned audibly as the two strolled into the chemistry classroom. He was the last person Stiles felt the need to impress. Mr. Harris only hated him because he was the only one who talked in Chemistry, and he was definitely the only person who knew the difference between the periodic table and an actual table.

"Stiles are you even listening? I'm trying to tell you something important here." Scott whined.

"Yeah Scott I heard every word." Stiles grumbled. _How important is it? Did you get her pregnant or something?_

"Okay good. So anyways you'll never guess what Allison and I talked about last night…"

Stiles was already gone again. Who the fuck cared? He slumped down in his chair and pretended to both listen to Scott whisper and to how compatible atoms formed what compounds. The clock ticked by, both on the classroom wall and on Stiles' internal time-bomb. If he could make it through the day without ripping shit off the walls and attempting to beat people up it was going to be a miracle.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Lunch time rolled around and Stiles was on his way to the cafeteria when someone grabbed him from behind, trapping him between his armpit and torso, and rubbing their knuckles into his head in a vigorous noogie.

"Hey Stalinski buddy," Jackson's voice taunted. "How's it goin'?"

"Oh just peachy. I love this feeling Jackson. So great." Stiles replied irritably. _This douche…_

"Come off him Jackson," Danny's voice chastised him.

Stiles gave Danny a grateful look, earning him an apologetic smile.

"Lighten up brolinski, I'm only joking. What's got your panties in a bunch?" Jackson punched his shoulder a bit too roughly.

"Can we not today Jackson? Any other day of the week fine, I'm your joking bitch just not today. I'm not in the mood." No longer hungry, Stiles turned to leave, no longer hungry when he ran right into Scott and Allison.

"Hi Stiles!" Allison smiled sweetly, completely oblivious to Stiles' mood.

Stiles had to admit, he had a really hard time hating Allison, no matter how completely moronic she made his best friend. Aside from the whole going on an angry killing rampage thing comparable to the worst case of p.m.s. and nearly killing everyone in the crew, she was a sweetie.

"Hey Allison," Stiles replied half-heartedly. "Scott."

"Sup dude?" Scott nodded back. "Where ya goin'?".

"Eh, I'm not really hungry so I'm just ganna go chill in the jeep."

"I'm pretty sure he has a date with Mrs. Right and her five sisters." Jackson retorted, moving his hand in a masturbatory motion.

_Oh for fuck's sake._ Stiles almost punched him then and there. To further his anger, Scott and Allison laughed with him, and even Danny snickered a bit.

"Real mature Jackson. Real mature." Stiles turned to leave again.

"You're really not ganna eat with us?" Scott asked.

"Nope." Stiles popped his lips on the 'p'.

"Oh. Well then can I have your lunch money? I used mine to buy Allison a coffee when I ditched third period." Scott asked innocently, and put his arm around Allison's shoulders.

Stiles just stared in disbelief. _Are you kidding me?_ There was no way he was going to make it through the rest of the day without killing anyone. Without saying anything, Stiles reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. Digging into it he pulled out a five dollar bill and threw it at Scott. _I don't even care anymore. No fucks are given._

He turned and stormed off seething, getting out of earshot after hearing a confused "What the fuck" from Scott.

_That lovesick, pretentious cuntburger. Who the fuck does he think he is asking for my money when he knew full fucking well he didn't have to rain diamonds, pearls, and coffee around Allison's petite ass feet. Who cares if I wasn't going to use it anyway, I mean it's not like they gave two flying fucks that I wasn't going to eat with them. I'm just their joking bitch. That's all I ever was. _

Stiles had stopped at his locker to throw his bag in. Closing it, he threw a vicious punch at the metal door. Shaking his hand off, he stormed out of the school to the jeep.

xXxXxXxXxXxXx

The final bell sounded through the halls and Stiles followed the torrents of teenagers out of their classes. He didn't even bother stopping at his locker, he had no homework anyway save for the Chemistry project Mr. Harris assigned last week. He already had a fair amount of research stocked up on his desk at home, and Scott who was regrettably his partner had nothing. Stiles was just not in the mood to deal with it.

Crossing the parking lot, Stiles made it to the jeep.

" Stiles wait up!" Scott's voice called from behind him moments before he jogged up to the side of Stiles' jeep. "What's up with you today? You seem kind of off…"

"Oh do I Scott? Gee, I hadn't noticed. Could it be the fact that I haven't slept more than four hours in the past three days? No, probably not. Could it be the fact that I'm still sore and bruised from the whole Gerard thing two weeks ago? Most likely not, but none of you would know considering none of you knew I was taken to begin with. How about Jackson McDouchefuck and his never ending torments? Nah. Oh wait I know, it's definitely not the way my best friend will not shut the living fuck up about his angelic girlfriend, who thinks of nothing but her and himself and does not even give a fuck big enough to ask how I'm doing or if there is anything he can do because I don't have tits and a vagina!" Stiles blew up. "Have I left anything out?!"

"Whoa man, calm down. And don't talk about Allison that way, she was going through an emotional time." Scott replied.

"Oh of fucking course," Stiles threw his hands up. "Will you pull your head—both of them for that matter—out of her vagina and just listen to how stupid you are being right now? She was following Gerard around like a lost puppy. She almost killed Derek, and Isaac, and she almost killed _you _Scott. Gerard beat the living shit out of me. Look at my face. Does anyone care? Not a chance. And you say _Allison_ had an emotional time?!"

"Stiles stop it…"

"No, you stop it!" Stiles threw back. "I'm sick of being treated like shit by everyone because I am the only fucking human who can't do anything but serve as your outlet for a few good jokes. Sure, I smile and brush it off but do you know how old that gets Scott? Do you know? NO! Because while I'm sitting here taking all the abuse your head is so far up Allison's ass—"

"Stiles, I mean it… Pipe the fuck down…" Scott growled. But Stiles wasn't listening.

"Because Allison is _so_ fucking perfect that she can do no wrong with those pretty eyes and fluttering lashes and all because she can probably give a good blowjob and—"

_WHAM!_

Scott's fist connected with Stiles' face, busting open his lip. Blood flowed freely from his mouth.

"Holy shit... Stiles!" Scott cried realizing what he had done. "Oh my god, dude I am so sorry. I…I didn't mean it… Stiles I'm so sorry…"

But Stiles wasn't listening. After he had recovered from the initial shock of the blow, and the pain had set in, Stiles turned his back and climbed into the Jeep.

"Stiles wait!" Scott yelled, but Stiles had already started the jeep and began backing away before speeding out of the lot.

Stiles' mind was a blur. His best friend had just punched him in the face. In. The. Fucking. Face. _I know I went too far…_Stiles thought to himself._ But what was I supposed to do? None of them know… None of them care…_ Stiles looked back at the school which was quickly disappearing in the rearview mirror.

A single tear began to creep its way down his bruised cheek and mingled with the blood on his lip. Last night's injuries stung and itched in conjunction under their bandages and Stiles knew what he desired to do. He pushed further on the accelerator, and sped home, eager to get his hands on his razor.

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**Dun dun dun! Stay tuned!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Alrighty everybody here is chapter three. I'm hoping I will quell some of your sterek appetites here but we'll see how this goes. Please continue to comment and review. **** It is all incredibly helpful! (P.S. and Btw's: if I reply to one of your comments, can one of you lovelies reply back to me so I know you got it? I don't know how that whole thing works with the messaging because I'm technologically challenged, so I wanna make sure y'all get my responses.)**

**Okay, without further ado, Chapter 3!**

**3**

Stiles stored the bleach back under the sink in his bathroom. After thoroughly rinsing the cloth he had used to clean the blood on the floor, he threw that in the washing machine down the hall with a load of whites.

Back in his room, Stiles collapsed on his bed, wincing as the new set of gashes stung against his lower stomach. The bandages pulled uncomfortably at the scabs from last night's injuries as well. _Why do you do this to yourself?_ Stiles questioned himself._ Isn't it obvious? You must be perfect to be of any importance to anyone. Right now, you are nothing more than a waste of space, a burden on everything and everyone around you. _Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, trying to silence the voice that echoed through his head again and again. _Worthless…Imperfect….Worthless…Imperfect….Worthles s…_

The buzz of his cell phone distracted him yet again. Stiles pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Seeing it was Scott who was calling for the nine billionth time, he once again slid the red bar to the right, ignoring the call. He immediately threw his phone across his room where it landed with a dull thud on the wooden floor. The phone buzzed again.

_Leave me the fuck alone._ Stiles cursed at his phone, hoping by some miracle it would actually obey his command. The phone continued to vibrate against the floor defiantly. _Scott is annoyingly persistent, _Stiles thought. _Am I being a bit immature about this? Shouldn't I at least hear what he as to say?_ Then Stiles shook his head. _Wait a damn minute he is the one who fucking punched me… Fuck him. _

Stiles continued to let the phone vibrate, and after what seemed like an eternity, the phone fell silent. Stiles sighed in relief, only to be startled by a pounding knock at the front door.

"Stiles, open up I know you're in there!" Scott's dampened voice sounded from downstairs. "C'mon let me in, I wanna talk to you."

Stiles remained where he was, keeping his resolve to not accept his best friend's apology. Yet to his dismay, the knocking continued, along with Scott's pleas. In addition, his phone started vibrating again against the wooden floor.

"Stiles! Just answer one of them! Either the phone or the door, I don't care! I just wanna talk to you! C'mon man, stop being a kid about this! I said I was sorry!" Scott yelled, and the knocking grew more intense.

This continued for several more minutes, and then a blissful silence filled the house. No buzzing of the cell phone, no knocking at the door—nothing but silence. Stiles waited for a few moments more, waiting to see if Scott would resume his yelling and calling. No such thing happened. Huffing a sigh of relief, Stiles slowly got up from his bed, gripping his injured side as he did so, and lumbered downstairs to the kitchen. Rummaging through the refrigerator, Stiles settled for pouring himself a glass of orange juice and sipped it lightly, wincing as the acidic drink stung his busted lip. _Thanks again for that Scott. Love that friendly gesture. _

Leaning against the counter, Stiles really got to thinking. _How the hell did all that come out of me…_Stiles thought, thinking back to the way he blew up at his best friend. _I'm usually so good at controlling it all. _Stiles pondered that for a moment. If anyone were to get hurt from his emotional rampages, it was himself. Stiles was not one to just let his feelings out like that, especially at other people. _God, I must be pretty fucked up._ Then he laughed to himself._ Of course you are. Look at your side. Twice in two days. Keep it up, and you'll be an ugly cross-hatched scratchboard. _The voice inside his head darkly whispered. _Well, I've already got that ugly part on lock, _Stiles told himself. He sighed and took another sip of orange juice.

_KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!_

"Sweet mother of—"Stiles jumped and the glass in his hand shattered on the linoleum floor, sending orange juice in all directions.

In an instant fit of anger, Stiles stormed to the front door yanking it open. "Scott, if I fucking wanted to talk to you I would have returned one of your gazillion ph—"

Derek looked up from the porch with those glittering hazel eyes. "Is this a bad time?" He said softly.

"Derek…" Stiles was at a loss of what to say. "Since when do you use the front door…or even knock?" _Good one Stiles…_He mentally slapped himself. "I mean, hey. No it's not."

"I heard something break, are you okay?" Derek stepped across the threshold.

"Oh yeah, sure, fine, come right in, no biggie. Just my house." _Mental slap. _"Yeah sorry, I was just thinking about something and you scared me."

"Thinking about Scott?" Derek pressed.

_Oh my god, he is so close… Oh my god he smells so good I…_Stiles pulled himself together. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh just the way you ripped my head off opening the door." Derek's eyes flashed.

"Oh… That. Well I mean... I didn't technically rip your head off. That's you. I'm not the big, bad alpha wolf thingy. Just plain old Stiles. Nothing special, you know… Just plain old hundred forty-seven pound Stiles with nothing but sarcasm—"

"Stiles…" Derek stepped forward, seriously encroaching in Stiles' personal bubble, and Stiles loved every second of it.

"Sorry." Stiles looked down.

"Are you alright?"

_Do I look alright? And since when do you care?_ "I'm fine. We just got into a small argument."

"Yeah, Scott called me. Said you were pretty upset today, and then you just blew up on him, and he overreacted a bit and now you're mad at him. He wants me to talk to you, since you're scared of me, and you'll listen."

"I'm not scared of yo—okay well he didn't overreact a bit. He overreacted _a lot._"

"I noticed." Those gorgeous eyes flicked to his mouth, and then back to his brown eyes. "I'm sorry."

_Da fuck? Derek Hale… sorry?_ "Um… It's no big deal. I mean I said some things I shouldn't have because I was in a bad mood and all. I'm in the wrong here so I deserved it. I mean you know how I get once I start talking, I can't stop. Then there was this whole not sleeping thing for the last couple of days and I was really tired and angry and irritable and Scott rubbed me the wrong way but I'm fine now and there's no need to worry I fucked up and—"

"Stiles!" Derek's eyes flashed again.

_ Why do they do that? It's almost as if he…cares?_ Stiles pondered._ Ha-ha who are you kidding? Derek? Care? We've been over this Stiles. You're nowhere near good enough to be cared for by him._ "Sorry. Did it again, didn't I?" Stiles blushed and looked down. "Sorry."

"Dammit Stiles stop apologizing!" Derek gripped his shirt and slammed him against the foyer wall.

Once the shock left the boy's face, a dark, almost sad expression clouded his features. "Your turn, huh?" Stiles' voice wavered quietly. "Need your daily dose of beating Stiles too?" _This is the closest you'll ever get. Just take the beating. That's all you'll ever get from him. Close enough for him to hurt you. _Stiles trembled against Derek's close proximity, all in fear, sadness, pain, and want.

"Stiles…No…Look, I… I didn't mean…" Derek's instantly turned ruby eyes reverted back to an almost hazel shade—something different tinting the beautiful color. Worry? "I should go." Derek paused for a glorious second, eyes glancing over Stiles' face. Then he was gone.

After a moment, Stiles slid down the wall, his breathing becoming quicker and shallower, while his heartbeat escalated to an alarming rate. Gasping for breath, Stiles pulled his knees to his chest and fell into the fetal position. His mind riled in a hurricane of thoughts. It was getting harder and harder to breath, and finally Stiles gave up his mental fight, and succumbed to the panic attack.

**So I know this didn't turn out as Sterek-y as we all want. But hey, I need to keep you guys interest somehow! More to come!**


	4. Chapter 4

** Hello lovelies!**

**Thanks so much for sticking with this! Keep the reviews coming! I love each and every one of them so PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE continue to comment your thoughts on how the story is progressing! Now, enjoy as the chess match continues with chapter 4!**

**3**

Derek pumped his arms harder as he ran to Stiles' house. The phone call from Scott set him on edge, and Derek needed to see how Stiles was doing. Scott sounded pretty urgent, and that had worried both Derek and his wolf. Derek was all concentration just at keeping the inner canine at bay.

Finally, Stiles' house came into view, and there was no Sheriff's Cruiser in the driveway which meant Stiles was alone. Running around to the side of the house, Derek performed his usual leap up to his boy's windowsill. The room was empty. _God dammit._ Derek thought to himself and he leapt down, the overwhelming smell of bleach disappearing as he fell.

Derek strolled to the front door and gave three, rather rough knocks. He heard a crash, and then Stiles' curse. Yelling at Scott soon followed and the door was yanked open by an angry Stiles, who immediately froze in his tracks—his heart jumped.

Stiles looked so beautiful, his familiar red hoodie was gone and there was his boy, clad in jeans and a baggy black t-shirt. The only difference was that Stiles' wonderful scent was masked by the overly potent stench of bleach that seemed to permeate his body and the entire house. The wolf inside him hated it, but Derek controlled it, not letting it show on his face yet.

They made chatter, Derek questioning what was wrong, but the answers Stiles gave worried him. They _really _worried him.

"I'm fine. We just got into a small argument."

Derek heard the jump in the boy's heartbeat, indicating the lie. But Derek continued. He gave his reason for asking about Scott and then he noticed it… the busted lip. _That. Fucking. Bastard. I am going to rip him apart limb from limb, tear out his intestines, and strangle him with them. How _dare_ he lay a hand on Stiles. _MY_ Stiles. _

Derek's wolf inwardly howled in rage, and it took all of Derek's will power to keep a straight face and not hunt the fucker down right then and there.

"I'm sorry." Derek managed to get out.

Stiles looked shocked at the apology, and in that moment, Derek's anger melted away. All that was left was the overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around the boy. To hold him, and never let anything hurt him again. Derek knew this couldn't happen. But being so close to his boy… it was too much. Stiles was all the while talking lies, his heart rate going crazy. Derek had to admit, all the boy's talking did get annoying…so adorably annoying. He barked at Stiles anyway and the boy immediately shut up, and blushed. Then came yet another apology._ Why the hell does he keep apologizing? He did nothing wrong!_

"Dammit Stiles stop apologizing!" Derek (well more of his wolf, but Derek) slammed Stiles into the wall, immediately regretting his action.

His wolf whimpered at the hurt expression on the Stiles' face. All Derek could think about was kissing away the pain he had caused, and his inner wolf yipped in agreement. Banishing the ridiculous thought, he almost collapsed into Stiles, who was trembling. Derek was so close… so close to the one person who made Derek feel whole again, and this one person was completely off limits to him. Derek sputtered out what was supposed to be an apology, but it turned out into a jumble of words.

"I should go."

Stiles' eyes visibly begged him not to, but he said nothing. Derek almost complied, but thought better of it. He turned on his heel and was out the door, sprinting as quickly as he could in the direction of the Train Depot.

xXxXxXxXxXx

"GAAAAAHHHH!" Derek roared as he hurled a hundred pound metal something-or-other some place in the god-forsaken depot. All he saw was red.

_Why can't you just fucking tell him? He's just a boy. You've done worse. Tell him you want him, you need him. Maybe he could feel the same way? I mean, he's never had any interest other than Lydia… but maybe…No. He could _never _want someone as fucked up as you._

Derek dropped to his knees panting. This couldn't go on. He needed Stiles to know. He needed Stiles in his life, he was sure of that. _If Stiles doesn't want me, I'll understand. But at least I'll know. _With that resolve, he stood. The night air felt good on his bare and sweaty chest.

_What time is it?_ Derek located the dirty tank top he had discarded and pulled it on, soon after finding his watch.

9:10pm.

_Stiles should still be awake. I have to tell him. _Derek turned and began his run back to Stiles' house.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek leapt down from Stiles' windowsill. His room had been empty, and that had troubled Derek. The Sheriff's cruiser was still gone, probably indicating that Stiles' dad worked a double shift and wouldn't be home till after midnight. But that should mean Stiles would be in his room, as there was nothing else to do in the house.

Derek returned to the front door, and knocked quietly, not wanting to scare Stiles again. He would need all the luck in the world _and_ Stiles to be in a good mood when Derek told him how he felt.

No answer came, so after a few moments, Derek tried the doorknob. The door swung open easily, and to Derek's horror, he saw Stiles curled into a ball on the foyer floor.

"Stiles!" Derek rushed to his boy's side. There was no response.

Derek then heard the steady thump of Stiles' heart, and Stiles' breathing came deep and easy. He was asleep. Dried tear streaks covered his cheek, and his eyes were red, but other than that the boy looked peaceful. _So different from last night…_Derek thought. He could gaze at that face for hours. _He must have had a panic attack._

Derek stood, and walked to the kitchen, looking down when something crunched beneath his boots. _That's what broke earlier._ Derek hunted up a broom and dust pan from downstairs, and swept up the broken glass. After depositing the shards into the trashcan under the sink, he wet a washcloth hanging on the oven rack, and mopped up the now-dried orange juice.

Once he had finished, Derek returned to the side of the sleeping Stiles. He bent, and picked Stiles carefully off of the floor, and stood slowly. Stiles stirred, pulling closer to Derek's warm body, resting his head in the crook of Derek's neck. The boy didn't wake.

Derek remained frozen, marveling at the beautiful boy in his arms. His heart sang and his inner wolf howled in glee as he clutched the boy closer to his body. Derek could have stayed like this forever, but feared that Stiles would wake up and freak out.

So Derek turned, and carried Stiles to the stairs. Carefully ascending the stairs step by squeaky step, Derek took Stiles to his bedroom. Before gently laying Stiles down under his blankets, Derek paused, savoring the feel of his lover against his chest. Derek turned his head, and brushed his lips against Stiles' forehead in a soft kiss. He reveled in the glorious scent that wafted up from Stiles' silky skin, and he almost cheered in victory as Stiles unconsciously clutched closer still.

Turning to the bed, Derek pulled back the comforter and top sheet and gently laid Stiles there. He placed another soft, this time longer, kiss on the boys forehead. Then he moved to cover the boy's body.

When he stood, a flash of white cotton caught his eye. A chill ran down his spine, and he reached to lift the boy's t-shirt. Against the pale skin of the boy's torso were two rather large patches of cotton gauze, both blotched heavily with a burgundy-brown substance. _Dried blood. _

Derek reached a shaky hand forward, and gently peeled away the bandages keeping the gauze flush against the boy's flesh. Derek leapt back in horror. Two words were carved into the boy's flesh. One scrawled down his ribcage to his hip, the other underneath reached from his hip around to the small of his back.

**PERFECT**

**WORTHLESS**

Derek couldn't believe what his eyes were showing him. His inner wolf howled in anger, while his heart cried in pain at what he was seeing. _What the fuck Stiles?! How could you do this?! Why didn't you talk to someone?! Stiles…_

Derek's head was spinning. He didn't know what to do. His heart rate began to quicken, and he could feel himself changing. Before he could, he clutched the bloodied bandages in his hand and ran to the window. Opening it, he leapt out, running down the street into darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi again! I am loving all of the feedback I am getting. The way all of you beautiful people are commenting really helps me develop the plot to where it satisfies all of our Sterek Cravings. **** So PLEASE keep it all the commentary coming, and enjoy chapter 5!**

Stiles awoke abruptly, gasping for breath. The nightmare that had woken him slithered into the shadows of his room with every breath he took. _Jesus Christ. _Stiles ran his hand through his sweat-dampened hair. Unlike the last nightmare, this one had remained all too vivid.

Stiles was in the school parking lot, talking with Scott when _WHAM!_ Scott's fist connected again with his jaw. Though instead of receiving an apology shortly after, Scott sent another vicious blow. Stiles had begged him to stop, but Scott kept raining the blows on to Stiles' quickly bruising body. Scott had forced Stiles into the fetal position on the ground, all the while beating him with a joyful gleam in his eye. The next thing Stiles knew, it wasn't Scott, but Gerard beating him. The old man was punching and kicking with everything he had. Gerard sent a vicious kick to Stiles' stomach, breaking the fetal position Stiles was securely ensconced in, sending him sprawling on his back, gasping for the breath no longer in his lungs. He hurt everywhere. Gerard stalked over, and stomped down on Stiles' shin, snapping the bone like a twig; bringing wails of agony from Stiles' lungs. Gerard then withdrew a venomously gleaming silver blade, which he held poised over his head. He brought it down, only to awaken Stiles just before it pierced his abdomen.

Stiles had never had a nightmare that real before. The pain, the fear, the gasping for breath—it was all too real. Stiles swung his legs out of his bed—wait his bed? Stiles looked around. _How the hell did I get back into my room? _Stiles looked at the clock.

2:39am.

_Dad must have come home and carried me to bed…_ There was no other explanation. Stiles yawned, but he knew he wasn't going to be falling back to sleep anytime soon. _Maybe I should get some sleeping pills, then I could at least sleep through the fucking night and not deal with this bullshit. _

Stiles stretched, and then dropped his arms. The movement should have pulled on the bandages, as they were securely fastened to his—Stiles lifted his shirt, seeing no bandages, but only assaulted flesh. _Oh fuck, oh shit. God damn shit, damn shit god damn fucking shit damn. _Stiles leapt from his bed, only to turn around and rip every blanket off of the mattress, shaking each one thoroughly to check for the bandages. _Please for the love of God, let them be somewhere here. Maybe I rolled around and they fell on the floor, or under my bed. _Dropping to a push-up position to look under the bed proved no such luck. _Fuck… Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Quadruple fucking fuck. What if they fell off when Dad carried me to… oh shit. _Stiles' heart sank. If they had fallen off when his dad carried him upstairs… that means the Sheriff had seen them. Which means he knew Stiles cut. Which means he knew Stiles was emotional. Which means A: Stiles would be in massive trouble. B: Sheriff Stalinski would blame himself for not being there yet again, and a bad parent. C: Stiles would have to face an interrogation about every aspect of his life. Which means D: Stiles' life was over. Period.

Stiles sank onto his bed. He had to do something, and fast. But what? Stiles' mind raced to find a solution, then came to a halt. _What if he _didn't _see them… then it could be like nothing ever happened. What if they got swept under a rug by some draft of something? There might actually be a God. _Stiles' prayed that that was the case. His resolve was to act natural in the morning. Nothing had happened. Stiles would pretend he was okay, just like he always did. It was all going to be fine.

Stiles stood and went to his desk. _Just calm down and wait till morning. Everything is going to be okay. I promise. _Stiles hoped he wasn't lying to himself.

Turning on his computer, Stiles went to YouTube, and typed in the title of the lullaby that his mother always used sing to him. The ethereal crooning began, and Stiles left his desk to collapse back on his bed.

_ Lay down your head, and I'll sing you a lullaby…  
Back to the years of loo-li-lai-lay…_

Stiles lost himself in the lyrics, thinking back to his mom—thinking back to happier and easier times. _Before I got fucked up. Before I became worthless._

Stiles sighed. _Only three more hours until I can get ready for school. _Stiles settled in to wait.

xXxXxXxXxXx

"Morning dad!" Stiles greeted, strolling into the kitchen after he was dressed for school.

"Mornin' son." His dad nodded, not looking up from the paper. "How'd you sleep?"

"Oh you know, alright I guess." Stiles shrugged. "Sorry about the mess though, thanks for cleaning it up." Stiles said, noticing the shattered glass and orange juice mess had disappeared.

"What mess?" His dad looked up.

"I uh... never mind." Stiles' brow furrowed. "So you didn't put me to bed when you came home?"

"No. You were completely gone when I came home around midnight." Stiles' dad raised a brow. "Are you okay Stiles?"

_Hell if I know anymore. _"Um… I'm fine." Stiles replied quickly. "Sorry, I was really tired last night and I forgot I went to bed early."

"So then what is this mess you were talking about?"

"Well I was drinking a glass of orange juice, and Der—Scott knocked… and it scared me so I dropped the glass and it broke and stuff. But I remember cleaning it up now." Stiles lied. "Did you happen to find anything else lying around… like maybe a bandage or two… or something like that?

"No, why?" suspicion clouded his father's voice.

Stiles thought he heard angels. "Oh, uh. Just curious. I know you don't like a dirty house and what not so I was making sure it was clean so I'm ganna go to school now love you bye." Stiles grabbed an apple, his bag, his keys, and ran to the jeep.

Sheriff Stalinski shook his head. "I'll be home late tonight so make sure you lock the door tonight! It was unlocked when I got home Stiles!" His father called after him.

_If my dad didn't take care of me... who did?_ Stiles tried to remember waking up or being woken up or something that would clue into his appearance in his bed. The more he thought, the more lost he became. _More importantly, what the fuck happened to my bandages?_ Stiles thought. He was going to have to be more careful. If anyone ever found out, be it his dad or Scott or god-forbid, Derek, his life was over.

Stiles turned on the radio to his favorite station and continued to school, dreading seeing Scott or anyone else. _Wow Stiles. For once, not being seen will actually be a good thing. For once, you actually don't want people to care for you. _Stiles chuckled. _Well, no one really does anyway. So isn't hoping for it to happen really stupid? _Stiles agreed with himself, and sped down the road towards Beacon Hills High.

**So this chapter did not turn out as exciting as I wanted it too so please don't hate me for it. I promise next chapter will be better. I promise! Chapter 6 coming soon!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Alrighty everybody, here is chapter 6! Thank you all so much for your feedback and commentary! It helps a ton so keep it coming! I'm hoping you all are still intrigued here. Brace yourselves, here we go!**

The lunch bell sounded, and Stiles raced towards the cafeteria. The whole way there he kept his eyes down, hoping to not come into contact with anyone.

"Stiles!"

_Great… Whoever you are, go the fuck away. _Stiles turned to see Lydia strutting toward him, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing in rhythm to her gait. She was still beautiful, yet Stiles felt… different about her. The overwhelming sense of longing that used to keep him up at night, the urge to be with her, the urge to stroke the porcelain face… all of it was gone. He now just saw a beautiful girl, like the many beautiful girls that walked the earth.

"What the hell was wrong with you yesterday?" She demanded when she reached him, flicking her curls behind her shoulder and crossing her arms.

"Hello to you too." Stiles turned to continue walking.

"Excuse me, where do you think you're going?" She called after him.

"Lunch," Stiles shrugged. "Isn't it that time of day? You know, mid-day, everyone gets hungry so we go to the cafeteria and eat the same crap. Not much of a change in ritual here, Lydia." Stiles turned again to walk away. _God, for how incredibly smart she is, she can be so dense._

"Stiles wait!" Lydia rushed to keep up, her heels clicking against the floor. "Why won't you talk to me?"

"You don't care obviously." Stiles retorted nonchalantly. "Don't pretend to start now, because you and I both know you never have before." He turned for the third time to leave. This time, Lydia did not follow. She merely clamped her jaw audibly and turned in with a profound "Hmmph."

_Thank the lord, _Stiles thought as he entered the cafeteria.

"Stiles!" Scott was already out of his seat with Allison and was almost sprinting towards Stiles.

Stiles immediately took that as his cue to turn and leave. _No lunch today…_ He walked as quickly as inconspicuous social skills allowed him to, but he still heard Scott calling after him.

"Stiles wait! I just want to talk to you!" Scott's voice grew closer, and Stiles' pace grew faster.

Scott soon caught up with him, much to his dismay. Stiles felt Scott's hand on his shoulder, and he whirled around.

"What, Scott?!" Stile's nearly screamed. "What do you want?!"

Scott shrank back, a hurt look in his eyes. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and to talk about yesterday. I know you've been avoiding me today."

"Really? Wow I didn't know." Stiles snorted. "If I _had _wanted to talk to you, don't you think I would have?"

"Look, I'm really really sorry about yesterday." Scott pleaded. "I don't know how I got so angry, I mean, I know what I did was fucked up, but c'mon Stiles, you know how I get."

"Yeah Scott, I know how you are. That's why it's perfectly fine for you to _punch me in the fucking face._" Stiles was seething. "What, d'you think I would heal in ten seconds like you?"

"No, of course not!" Scott whimpered. "I honestly did not mean to hit you!"

"Yeah, well that doesn't make it better Scott. It doesn't heal my busted lip and it sure as hell doesn't heal my bruised face from Gerard." Stiles' temper was escalating again. "I mean, did you even _know_ I was missing? Better yet, did you even _care?"_

"Of course Stiles, you're my best friend." Scott replied. "You know I would have come after you!"

"But you didn't Scott. _None_ of you did." Stiles said matter-of-factly.

"Stiles, I'm so sorry." Scott whimpered again.

Stiles couldn't take this anymore. He couldn't take how angry he was at Scott and everyone else, but a small part of him was a bit upset with himself too for being so abrasive. _Doesn't everyone need a punching bag?_ Stiles thought to himself. _You're everyone else's. Why are you being so selfish?_ Because he was sick of being the punching bag. He was _everyone's _punching bag, and no one even cared. No one even thanked him No one ever asked if he was okay. No one ever worried about Stiles.

Stiles sighed. "Look Scott, you're my best friend. But I need some time alone right now. I need to be angry at you for a while. I need to not talk to you, or see you, or anything. I think it would do both of us some good."

"Stiles, c'mon…" Scott pleaded. "Please don't be like that. I need you. We all need you."

"Well you're ganna have to deal without for a while. I don't know how long, but for a while. Sorry, man." _Why are you apologizing?_ _You've done nothing wrong! _Stiles shook his head. _I apologize because I'm not perfect, and that's why they don't care. _He turned and left, Scott staring at him as he went.

Stiles made it to the end of the hallway, not bothering to look back at his best friend. _This'll be good for us… I think. Maybe now he'll realize that I'm gone every once in a while. Maybe he'll realize that—_

Someone grabbed Stiles' backpack as he passed an alcove that hid a janitorial closet, and slammed him into the brick wall.

"Mother fu—OW!" Stiles rubbed his head, opening his eyes to see Derek's ruby eyes glowering at him. "God, does this school even _have_ security cameras and policies?"

"Shut up." Derek growled. "You and I need to talk. Be in front of my house at 4:45pm this afternoon _sharp._ Come alone, and if you even think about not showing up, I will find you. I will hunt you down, and make you wish you had followed my instructions."

"Gah—yeah, sure, 4:45pm sounds great see you then…" _Please don't kill me._

Derek released Stiles from his clawed grasp and stalked off.

Stiles sighed in relief. _I swear, one of these days Derek is _actually_ going to kill me and I'm not even going to be surprised._

Stiles adjusted the bag on his shoulder, and ignoring the growl of his empty stomach, left for the parking lot.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Scott was down for the rest of the afternoon. Allison couldn't even distract him, and that was saying something. He did not want Stiles to be mad at him. It caused him physical pain to have his best friend completely hate him. Scott wished he had never thrown that punch, but that wasn't going to change the fact that it happened. He sighed, and closed the door to his locker.

_**WHAM!**_

Scott yelped as he was slammed into his locker. "Derek what the fuck!?"

"Shut up. Do you have any idea how much I could kill you for what you did to Stiles yesterday?"

"Oh my god Derek, it was one punch! I didn't mean to, it just happened. I told Stiles I'm sorry but he won't listen!" Scott whined.

"Oh so busting his lip makes it acceptable? On top of Gerard's injury?" Derek spat. "Yeah, an apology should just cover that right up."

"For fuck's sake Derek, you are at just as much fault as I am!" Scott retorted.

"I know. Every single one of us is."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked, confused.

Derek withdrew something from his back pocket. It looked like white cotton, but it was stained with something brown, like dirt. "Do you know what this is?"

"Used toilet paper?" Scott asked innocently.

"You idiot!" Derek slammed his fist into the locker next to Scott's head. "Can you not smell what this is?"

Scott took a moment and sniffed the air. "It smells like Stiles. Why does it smell like Stiles…" Scott sniffed again. "and blood?"

"Because it's Stiles' blood you dumb ass."

"What the FUCK did you do to him?" Scott's eyes shifted to amber, his claws protruding.

"Not what did _I_ do to him. What did we _all _do to him? What have we all _been _doing to him?" Derek spat, seething. "I found Stiles yesterday unconscious from a bad panic attack. When I put him in his room, I found these patching up the _entire right fucking half_ of his torso."

"I don't get it…" Scott's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Are you really that fucking moronic?" Derek punched the locker again. "Stiles did this to _himself._ He is _hurting, _Scott can't you see that? It's _our _fault. He feels worthless. He feels useless. If we don't stop this now, things could get a whole lot worse."

Scott's eyes widened as he comprehended what Derek was telling him.

"Yeah, Scott. Stiles slices himself open because he has no other way of letting go of his fear. He has no way of opening up to anyone, and it is all. Our. Fault."

"Stiles… Why…" Scott didn't know what to think. All he knew was that his heart had just shattered at his ignorance toward his best friend. 

**Dun Dun Dun! To be continued!**

**So personally, I feel as this turned out way better than I thought. Let me know what you all think! **


	7. Chapter 7

**So sorry for the delay in writing everybody! I have had the absolute worst case of writer's block, and I could not find a way to successfully transition my ideas. So here goes my best attempt at a solution. Please keep continuing to review and comment with your thoughts and any suggestions you may have! It has all been beyond helpful! Here's Chapter 7!**

Derek paced back and forth on the landing of the stairwell in his burnt out house. _How could Stiles do that to himself? What could possibly make him feel that worthless? He has been a part of every single battle; he has been a part of every single problem; he's been a part of every single solution… Why? _Derek continued to pace. Regardless of how hard he would try, the two words carved into the flesh of Stiles' side would not leave his mind. It was as if the gashes had scarred themselves into his mind's eye just as they would into Stiles' skin.

What puzzled (and regrettably angered) Derek the most was how he had failed to notice Stiles' pain. _Why hadn't I smelled the blood? You could sense the stress on him… Especially two nights ago… How could you… How? _

Derek continued to bash himself mentally for his stupidity and ignorance. _That was why he smelled completely of bleach. He was trying to keep it a secret. _Derek sighed. _I just don't understand… Why does he think so low of himself? Doesn't he realize just how…_Derek searched for the right word, and sighed at his own irony. _Just how _perfect_ he really is? He is kind, and selfless, and full of intuition. He sees the good in everything and everyone save for himself. He risks his life for everyone, even when his life is the most fragile. It's almost as if he could care less what happens to himself, just as long as everyone else is okay. _Derek thought back to the time when Jackson had paralyzed him as the Kanima. Had it not been for Stiles, Derek surely would have drowned. He retreated further in his memory to when Kate (a pang of pain and fury flashed through his body) had shot him with a wolfsbane bullet. Without Stiles' care until Scott could get the bullet, he would have died then too.

Stiles was perfect—perfect and wonderful and beautiful. That was the conclusion Derek came too. There was no other way to describe Stiles. _No matter how annoying he can be, he is still absolutely beautiful. If only he could see it. _Derek sat at the top of the stairs. _If only you could show him, _he told himself. _He is important. He is perfect. To perfect for the likes of you. _Derek agreed with himself at the realization. Stiles deserved someone far better than Derek. After all that Derek had put him through, there was nothing that could put Derek in a positive light to the boy.

Derek pulled Stiles' bloodied bandages for the pocket of his jeans, and cradled them in his open palms. Simply looking at the pieces of soiled cotton brought spasms of pain to his chest. The recognition of the sensation made Derek think of what pain Stiles may be feeling—what he had been feeling, for god knows how long. He curled his fingers around the remnant of his boy's pain. _I'll keep these…as a reminder. A reminder to never let Stiles be hurt again. _

Derek tucked the cotton pads back into his pocket, and checked his watch.

4:44pm.

_He should be here any minute now. _Derek's heart quickened at the thought. In all honesty, Derek had no idea what exactly he was going to say to Stiles. He hadn't really planned that far ahead. _I'm an idiot._ Derek rested his head in his palms. _This is going to suck._

The sound of Stiles' jeep came into earshot. Derek knew the boy was still a couple miles out, so he had maybe two more minutes to his thoughts. At this realization, Derek also realized that he had no more thoughts to think about. The only thing on his mind was Stiles. _Stiles. With his brown eyes, and fair skin. That ridiculously cute smile. The annoying chatter. His intoxicating scent. Stiles… Stiles… Stiles…_

As if on cue, Stiles' jeep pulled to a stop outside the house, and as soon as the boy stepped from the driver's side door, Derek could smell him from where he stood, and it drove both him and his wolf crazy. Derek leapt down from the staircase and exited the house, meeting the nervous boy at the stairs of the porch. Derek checked his watch again.

4:46pm.

"You're late." Derek said, his face as hard as a stone.

Stiles lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry, I got caught up at the store."

"Well, at least I don't have to drag you here by your eyelids." Derek retorted, and the boy stepped back.

"Are you going to tell me why I'm here or are you just going to keep insulting and threatening me?" Stiles' eyes narrowed.

Derek bit his lip. He knew he was being far to abrasive, but he had no idea how to act around Stiles. The wolf inside whimpered. _C'mon you idiot. Don't fuck this up. _

"I just wanted to…check in with you. Make sure you're alright." Derek murmured, scratching the back of his head nervously.

Stiles snorted. "Oh I'm just peachy, thanks very much. After almost killing my best friend today, and on top of that almost getting mugged by a werewolf who cannot respect security protocol for public schools, I am just fantastic."

"I needed to make sure you'd come." Derek shrugged, looking at the ground.

"Why? It's not like you couldn't force me here if you wanted." Stiles retorted again.

"Stiles, just tell me what's bothering you." Derek growled, growing impatient.

The boy only laughed. "Derek there's nothing fucking wrong with me. I'm—"

"Don't you dare lie to me. Don't you dare say you're fine." Derek almost yelled. "You and I both know that's bullshit." He looked Stiles square in the eye.

"You don't know shit, Derek." Stiles threw back. "Don't pretend to start giving a shit now because Scott went and cried to you."

_You don't know anything…_ Derek wanted to say. "This has nothing to do with Scott! This is about YOU and ONLY you."

"What is there about me? I'm an annoying, weak human." Stiles was getting angry.

Derek closed in on the boy, only to have him back away. Stiles kept backing away until he was pressed flush against the door of his jeep. Derek paused a few steps away.

"Stiles stop lying to me and tell me what's wrong!" Derek stepped closer still.

"Will you knock it off? There is NOTHING wrong! I'm FINE!"

Derek heard the hitch in Stiles' heartbeat again. "You just lied to me."

"Prove it!" Stiles shot back.

"Fine!" Derek reached into his pocket, and withdrew the bandages.

Stiles' eyes bulged and his breathing stopped dead when he saw what Derek held in his hand. "I don't know what those are." He whispered hoarsely.

"The hell you don't." Derek spat. "I know what you've been doing to yourself Stiles. I just want to know why."

"Why would _you_ care? I'm not one of your obediently whipped betas. I'm not important to you at all!" Stiles erupted.

Derek could see the tears forming at the corner of his boy's eyes, and his wolf whimpered at the sight. "That's not true!" Derek nearly shouted.

"Oh yeah? Where were you when Gerard had me? Where were you when Scott punched me? Why would you even show up to my house when it didn't have anything to do with you? Scott called you didn't he?"

Derek hesitated.

"DIDN'T HE?!" Stiles shouted.

"Yes, he called me!" Derek yelled back.

Stiles chuckled, but even so a single tear slid from his control. Derek almost shattered in agony for the boy.

"Stiles, I'm so sorry…" He whispered.

"No you're not." Stiles lowered his head. "I'm nothing to you. I'm nothing to any of you. You hate me."

"That's not true!" Derek growled. "You have no idea how much I care about you."

"Don't lie to me Derek. I may not be a werewolf, but I know you're lying."

"Then you know nothing about how I feel!" Derek was seething in anger. _Don't you get it Stiles? I need you! _If only he could say such things.

"Don't give me that bullshit Derek. You could care less if I were even alive. Gerard could have fucking killed me, dismembered my corpse and scattered it to the four corners of the earth, and you would give no fucks about it."

"Shut the fuck up! You know I would care! All of us would care!" _Why won't you believe me? _Derek raced for a solution—a way to make the tormented boy in his presence see the truth.

"Derek, just stop. I'm broken as it is, and I don't need you to tear me apart anymore. Fine. You've found my secret. Don't pretend like you care though. Just because I'm more distant than before doesn't mean that you—"

Derek stopped listening—he had made up his mind. _Fuck it. _Derek cut Stiles' sentence short by closing the distance between them, and crushing his lips against Stiles', stopping the painful words erupting from Stiles' heart.


	8. Chapter 8

**Alright everyone, so it all begins. You're reviews have been most helpful, and I have taken careful consideration to how I will build the story from here. Please keep them coming! Brace yourselves! Here's Chapter 8.**

Stiles stood petrified. His mind hadn't begun to function again. Everything was a blur—the forest around him, the thud of his heart, his memory swirling chaotically. All Stiles could remember were Derek's ruby eyes boring into the very core of his heart, and then it all went blank. The only feeling he had were two lips, coarse as sandpaper yet gentle as a feather, upon his own.

His mind flared into overdrive. Derek had kissed him. Something Stiles had thought was impossible, yet it was really happening. _Why?_ The question echoed through his head. _Why is this happening? This shouldn't be happening. What is going on? What do I do? Do I stop him? Do I want this? Of course I want this, but why? Does Derek want this? He started it. He kissed me. But why? Why? Why?_

Stiles couldn't wrap his head around it. Something definitely sparked within his chest, and chills ran up and down his spine. Then it was all gone. Derek pulled away, leaving an unpleasant feeling where his lips had just been. Half of Stiles wanted to pull him back in, but he restrained himself. _Don't. This isn't real. This didn't happen. It's all a lie. _

"Stiles…" Derek searched for something to say, his strong jaw clenching as his brow furrowed.

Stiles just stared at him, completely frozen, completely unmoving. _Why did you do that? Why the _fuck _would you do that? This can't happen. I'll ruin it. I'm no good for you. You can't want me. I'm not perfect. _Stiles was at war with himself, and all he could do was stare. Fires raged inside of him, and all he wanted to do was scream. Yet there he stood, quiet as stone.

"Stiles… Please say something." Derek's now hazel eyes pleaded. He reached out to touch Stiles face, seeming to awake the boy from his stupor. Stiles flinched away.

"Why did you do that?" It was nothing more than a whisper. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"Stiles… I…" Derek retracted his hand. "I don't know."

_ I knew it…_ Stiles clenched his jaw, and ran his hand up the door of the jeep. Yanking it open he jumped in and started the vehicle. Throwing the transmission in reverse, Stiles backed up and sped away from the burnt out house, leaving a solemn-faced Derek in a cloud of dust and pine needles.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Stiles paced around his room. _What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck happened today? Derek. He kissed me. Why would he kiss me? That wasn't supposed to happen. I should have never gone over. I knew it was a bad idea. Oh shit, he knows I cut. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. He must think I'm beyond mental. But then why would he kiss someone as fucked up as me? I don't get it… Why?_

Stiles felt like he was going crazy. His mind was a whirlwind of incoherent thoughts and flashbacks of that all too wonderful—and petrifying—moment when Derek's lips pressed against his.

Six hours had passed, and all Stiles could do was question how something like that had happened. Stiles had been going over possibilities for hours. He hadn't done his homework, hadn't taken his Adderall; he hadn't even eaten dinner. His dad was at work for his double shift, so Stiles was all alone, which was the last thing he needed. _But it's the first thing I want. I don't deserve to have people see me like this—especially Derek. God, he must think I'm crazy. Absolutely, without a doubt, one hundred million thousand percent beyond fucked up in the head. _

Stiles groaned, and sank onto his bed. _There is no way I can face any of them now. _Stiles put his head in his hands. _Good luck sleeping tonight._ Then Stiles' head shot up. He had picked up a bottle of the Pharmacy's strongest over the counter sleep aid before he had headed to see Derek. Stiles leapt to his back pack on his computer chair, and found the bottle. _Oh thank sweet baby Jesus. _He read the label.

_Take one tablet thirty minutes before bed. Do not exceed_… blah blah blah. Stiles did as the directions commanded, popping one pill and swallowing it dry. _Thirty minutes will be a breeze to wait through. _Stiles thought, as he practically ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He didn't even bother to look in the mirror.

Within five minutes, Stiles was back in his room, stripped down to his briefs and in bed. _Please work fast, _Stiles pleaded with himself. Regardless of how hard he tried to distract himself, his thoughts always returned to Derek's kiss. _What if he meant it? Oh, please,_ Stiles told himself._ Why would someone like Derek mean to kiss someone like you?_ Stiles felt a bit juvenile, yelling at himself like this, but the feeling was there. _What if?_

Stiles looked at the clock.

10:55pm.

_C'mon, please work. _Within minutes, Stiles received his wish and slipped into a deep, but dark sleep.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek perched on Stiles' window sill. Hard as he tried, Derek couldn't stay away from Stiles' house. He knew he shouldn't be there. _I probably scared him so bad today. There went any chance I had._ Derek mentally slapped himself. _You're such a fucking idiot. Of course he didn't want you._ His wolf whimpered. _Well at least now I know. Now I can't hurt him anymore. _

Derek prepared to leap down from the sill, when he heard Stiles whimper. He peered back inside the boy's window, seeing Stiles tossing in his sleep.

"Derek…" Stiles whimpered his name.

Derek didn't believe his ears.

"Derek… please… Help me…" Stiles tossed again.

Derek's ears were alert; the stenches of fear, pain, and sadness emanated from the room.

Stiles whimpered and tossed again. With a scream, the boy jolted upright in his bed, panting heavily. Derek turned quickly and hid himself on the roofing just beside the window. From here, Derek could still hear the boy's pounding heart, almost as if it could pound out the fear that had a vice like grip on the boy's panting. He heard Stiles swear.

Then Derek felt something different—something _terrifyingly _different. An aura of anger seeped from the room, and Derek heard the padding of Stiles feet on the hardwood floor of the bedroom. Derek looked at his watch.

12:00am.

_Does Stiles ever sleep? _Derek knew the answer to that question. _Of course he doesn't. When he's hurting as bad as he has, he…_Derek's head shot up in attention at a horrifying realization. He quickly turned to gaze into the window, only to see Stiles standing only in his briefs in front of his desk. Anger was seeping from the window as if it were water through a sponge. Derek heard the boy intake a breath sharply and exhaled a whimper. Something metallic flashed by his stomach.

_NO! _Derek's claws erupted from his fingertips, digging underneath the window, yanking it upward and snapping the lock with ease. Stiles jumped back, tripping over a shoe and fell to the ground with a yelp of fear as Derek leapt into the room, his eyes ablaze.

"_Stiles drop the knife."_ Derek growled; the scent of blood filled his nostrils. "I said DROP it."

To Derek's dismay, Stiles recovered from his fear and got to his feet, gripping the razor tighter in his palm.

"What the FUCK are you doing here?" Stiles spat. His eyes awash with anger, fear, and pain in the moonlight now streaming through the open window. Blood trickled from a small cut by Stiles' navel.

Derek thought he was going to be sick. Regardless, Derek choked down his horror and rushed forward, grabbing the wrist which held the bloodied razor.

"Derek let go!" Stiles cried weakly.

"I said DROP it." He growled again. This time, Stiles' hand fell open and Derek heard the razor clatter to the floor.

All anger emanating from Stiles immediately dissipated, only to be replaced by the thicker, darker aura of anguish and fear. Stiles' wrist began to tremble. His breath became raggedly labored.

_He's trying not to cry…_ Derek realized, and his wolf immediately gave way to his human form. Stiles' head was bowed, trying to keep back the sobs.

"Help… me…" Stiles gave a stuttered whimper, and Derek almost shattered to pieces with him.

Derek pulled the nearly-naked Stiles into a solid embrace, cradling the broken boy against his chest. "Shh….Shh… It's okay. It's all over. It's okay. It was just a nightmare… Shh…" Derek crooned.

Stiles collapsed into Derek's hold; his emotional dam had broken and the sobs flowed freely. The boy was shaking as he gasped for breath.

Derek could feel the boy's panic attack approaching, so he tightened his grip around Stiles. "Stiles, I'm here." He repeated the mantra over and over, as the boy weakly clutched to his shirt, staining it with the blood from his torso and the tears from his eyes.

"D-d-d-don't…l-l-l-l…" Stiles couldn't form coherent words due to his torrential sobs.

Derek had never seen the boy this hurt, this vulnerable. In fact he had never seen anyone in such a state. _Stiles…_ Derek couldn't even comprehend how much emotion was being released from its prison in his own arms. "I'm not leaving."

Derek managed to walk Stiles' trembling figure to the bedside, and he sat down cradling the boy closer to him. Stiles curled toward him in response, the torrent still flooding from his body.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. Stiles' sobbing dwindled to dry whimpering and panting, and then eventually it slowed to an even pace. Stiles' heart slowed as well as the boy slipped into an unconscious state. Derek looked at the clock.

1:30am.

Derek looked at Stiles who lay limply in his lap. The blood oozing from the small cut on his stomach had congealed. _I'd better patch that up. _Derek carefully lifted Stiles from his lap, and laid him on the bed, tucking the comforter around his bare figure. Stepping quickly to the bathroom, Derek rummaged through the cabinet under the sink, and located Stiles' first aid kit.

Returning to the room, Derek carefully uncovered Stiles' torso, and applied a large bandage to the boy's wound. Derek swiftly replaced the comforter as Stiles shivered from a draft that had blown from the open window. Derek quickly closed it.

Stiles whimpered again, his brow furrowing, and Derek could smell fear growing within him. Moving to the opposite side of the bed Derek sat on the mattress, and placed a hesitant and careful hand on the boy's shoulder. Stiles relaxed at the touch, resuming a restful breathing pattern. _Stiles…_ Derek's gut wrenched for the boy and his pain. He scooted closer to Stiles, and carefully lay next to him. Reaching out an arm, he wrapped it around the sleeping boy, who stirred at the warm touch, but did not wake. Derek pulled Stiles close, and buried his nose in the back of the boy's neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent.

Stiles breathed deeply again, all traces of fear gone from his tear-streaked face. _Finally, he can get some real sleep. _Derek thought to himself. He placed a soft kiss on the back of Stiles' neck, and settled in to wait for the sun to arise.


	9. Chapter 9

**Alrighty everyone so now that I have been constantly updating, I will have to take some time off to think of a way to develop the story more. My apologies in advance if another chapter does not appear within the next couple of days. I am currently debating with several directions to take this story, and I need time to decide which one will best suit our desires. Please keep you reviews coming as I love reading your thoughts! Without further ado: Chapter 9!**

Sheriff Stalinski pulled the cruiser into the driveway of his dark house. The clock on his dashboard read 2:00am. After turning the car off, the sheriff rested his head on the headrest of his seat. _Christ, what a night… _Reports had been filing in about disturbances in property from all over Beacon Hills, which kept him and his deputies busy for hours. It wasn't until about an hour ago that they called it quits and let the night crew handle it all. _Damn delinquents…_ The Sheriff yawned, and climbed out of the car.

Entering the house as quietly as he could, he turned and locked the front door. Hanging up his coat and gun holster on the coatrack, the sheriff trudged up the stairs.

There was a gentle breeze outside in the cool night air and clouds had rolled overhead, obscuring the moon, leaving the interior of the house almost black as pitch. The house creaked in the breeze outside.

The sheriff stepped lightly down the hall, not wanting to wake his son with his footsteps. He paused outside of Stiles' door, his hand poised on the knob. The sheriff slowly turned the metal hand-piece. Slowly, the door opened.

The sheriff stepped into the room, only to find Stiles sleeping peacefully, his breath slow and deep, his face completely serene. _This is the first time I've seen him this still in forever. _The sheriff smiled. He walked over to his sleeping son, and gently rubbed the back of his head. Stiles stirred but didn't wake.

"Sweet dreams, kiddo." The sheriff whispered, and he quickly left the room to retire in his own bed. The sheriff closed the door behind him.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek released the breath he had been holding, and stepped from the spot in Stiles' closet in which he had ensconced himself. _That was a close one. _Derek said to himself. Derek lightly stepped to the bedroom door and pressed his ear against it. He heard the toilet in the master bedroom flush, and then the rustling of fabric. Then all he heard was deep breathing and eventually a solid snore.

Once satisfied that the sheriff was soundly asleep, Derek crept back to Stiles' bed and resumed his former position. He pressed his nose into the back of Stiles' neck, inhaling that wonderful scent, and felt the boy's heartbeat against his chest. Derek draped an arm lightly around the boy's waist and pulled him closer. Derek smiled. _This feels so right. I haven't felt like this since… well, not since Kate. _Then Derek realized, as he thought back to the sadistic bitch, that he hadn't even felt the way he did with her as he did now with Stiles. He began to lightly trace swirls onto Stiles' bare hip, and continued to inhale the rainy scent that was Stiles. Within moments, Derek slumbered contently while holding the world's most precious treasure in his arms.

xXxXxXxXxXxXx

Stiles awoke groggy and disoriented. _God, I haven't slept that hard in months._ There was an odd thumping noise in his ear and his pillow was unusually…solid? Then Stiles remembered last night, and his breath caught in his throat. He slowly turned his gaze upward, seeing Derek sleeping soundly.

Stiles realized his pillow had been discarded to the floor of his room, and Derek's chest was its substitute. The rhythmic thumping was his heart.

_Ah shit…_ Stiles remembered the events of last night—the nightmare, the anger, the razor against his skin. Then Derek crossed his memory, and unfortunately, so did Stiles' emotional episode. He groaned.

Derek's eyes snapped open and he almost flung the boy off his chest in alarm.

"What?! What's wrong?!" Derek bolted upright, his eyes alert and red, his claws protruding.

"Um… sorry." Stiles blushed, as the werewolf looked back at him, surprise evident in his features.

"Stiles…" Derek returned to normal. "Um… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pass out like that." He shifted uneasily.

"Ha ha ha… yeah… it's… alright." Stiles rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Umm… I'm sorry about last night." He could think of nothing else to say.

"For what?"

"You shouldn't have had to see that." Stiles blushed deeper; the embarrassment at his own weakness appalled him. _No one should've seen that._

Derek's eyes softened. "Why are you apologizing?"

"You didn't need to see me like that." Stiles muttered again.

"Stiles." Derek paused. "Stiles look at me." He waited until Stiles reluctantly complied. "Do. Not. Apologize."

Stiles reverted his gaze back to the sheets of his bed, and began fiddling with them nervously. _I'm still sorry._

Silence filled the room for a long moment. Stiles gazed at his alarm clock.

6:20am.

"Wow. I really crashed." _Some medicine, _he thought.

"You needed it. You were exhausted." Derek replied.

"Yeah…" Awkwardness returned.

"Stiles," Derek hesitated. "I want to apologize about yesterday." Derek glanced around the room, avoiding Stiles' gaze. "I shouldn't have k—done what I did."

Stiles blinked in comprehension, the kiss echoed through his memory. "No… I'm… I'm glad you did." _Wait, what? Did I just say that? _Stiles looked around the room. _Oh shit… I definitely just said that. _His cheeks turned scarlet. He looked down, again. _Oh God, shoot me now. Please, just kill me. Send a meteor, an earthquake, a nuclear bomb, anything!_

"What?" Derek blinked in disbelief.

Stiles didn't reply, but only sunk beneath the sheets. _I'm not here. I'm gone. I disappeared. Derek is not in my room. I'm not…_ Stiles almost had an aneurism. _I'm in my underwear. Oh god, could this get any worse? This cannot be happening._

"Stiles?" Derek's voice murmured softly.

Stiles felt a hand grip the comforter over his head, and pulled it away deftly.

"You're heart's about to jump out of your chest." Derek remarked, a smile in his eyes.

Stiles only blushed harder. _Say something, dumbass. _

"You said you're glad I kissed you…" Derek smiled.

_Oh. Fuck. This isn't happening. _

"Didn't you?"

_No hiding from it now…_ Stiles nodded, remaining crimson. "I…" Stiles' mind whirled to find something remotely intelligent to say. "I…uh…I'm sorry." He coughed. "About the way I acted yesterday."

"Stiles, stop apologizing about that. It happened." Derek groaned. "Now answer my question."

_He isn't going to let this go is he?_ "Okay fine. I was. Glad, I mean." Stiles looked down again, his face on fire, and heard Derek chuckle.

Then a finger lifted his chin. Derek leaned in, and paused a centimeter from Stiles' face, his hazel eyes boring into Stiles' own.

_Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. This is happening. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Shit. Damn. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Damn. _

Then Stiles felt them. Two warm lips pressed soft as silk against his own. This time, Stiles didn't pull away. He found his eyes closed, and he let go. Stiles melted into the kiss, and he felt Derek's hand gently cup his cheek.

Then it was over. Derek pulled away, and Stiles opened his eyes. Derek's eyes looked uncertain. _He's wondering if I'm going to flip out again. _Stiles blushed again. "You got me. Now you know."

"Stiles…"Derek whispered. "I'd like to talk about this. Like, really talk about this. Without you running away. Can we do that later?"

Stiles nodded. _Hopefully I don't go batshit crazy before then. _

"Okay…" Derek huffed out a sigh of relief. "I'll meet you in here after school." Derek got off the bed and headed for the window.

"I'd better get ready for school." Stiles' mind was blank.

Derek nodded. "Oh, one more thing." Derek turned from the window, and grabbed Stiles' arm, pulling the brief-clad teen into his arms.

Stiles felt Derek's arms circle around him, and another kiss was pressed against his lips. This time, he felt Derek's certainty behind the action. The intensity of the moment made Stiles weak.

Then Derek was out the window and gone. Stiles collapsed to his bed, and he brought his fingers to his lips.

_That's what it feels like…_Stiles marveled at the slight tingling left behind by Derek's lips. A small smile creased the corners of his mouth. _That's what it feels like. _


	10. Chapter 10

**My apologies for how long it took to get this chapter up. After racking my brain for what ideas to put where, I think I have finally nailed down a solid outline for this story. Hopefully it keeps you all coming back for more! Here's chapter 10!**

School was an absolute bitch. Stiles dragged through class after class, constantly looking at his cell phone or at the clock on the wall to see how much time had passed—to see how much time he had to make it through before the end of the day. He heard nothing of what his teachers had to say about the subjects they taught. No one gave a fuck as usual, especially Stiles.

Stiles' mind wasn't present in Mr. Harris' chemistry class as usual. The difference between today and every day in the past was that Stiles wasn't focusing on hiding his emotion, or anything remotely negative. He thought back to earlier this morning at 6:20am. _Derek…_

Stiles could still feel Derek's warm lips graze his own with the lightest of pressure. He could still feel his knees lose their strength when he thought back to Derek's strong arms wrap around him. He could still feel how his breath came with ease for the very first time in months immediately after the kiss. The horrors of the previous night had all but vanished this morning, as if Derek was some kind of barrier.

Stiles ached to get back to his bedroom; though slightly nervous about the conversation Derek wished to have, Stiles knew now how much he desired to simply be in the werewolf's presence. Simply being in school made Stiles crazy. _At least Scott hasn't been here all day. _Stiles thought to himself. _Just one less thing I have to deal with. _

In all honesty, Stiles missed his best friend. The past couple days' events had put one hell of a rift in their friendship. Stiles felt guilty about how he had blown up at his best friend, and he sure as hell knew Scott was distraught with grief at how he had reacted toward the outburst. Stiles was positive Scott really hadn't meant it. _I did take it pretty far._ _Oh well… It'll sort itself out eventually._

Stiles sighed, and looked at the clock for the nine billionth time.

11:30am.

_Fuck, is this day ever going to end? _Stiles sighed. The seconds ticked by at a snail's paced. _I guess not. _Stiles sunk down into his chair, throwing in his mental white towel. _It'll be over eventually._ With that, he waited.

xXxXxXxXxXx

At the ring of the final bell, it was all Stiles could do to keep from sprinting to the parking lot. Everyone moved at a painfully slow pace, and Stiles almost went crazy with impatience. After an eternity, Stiles could see his familiar blue jeep just across the student lot, and he immediately made a bee-line for his vehicle.

"Stiles!"

Stiles' hand paused on the handle of the jeep's door. Scott's voice stopped him dead in his tracks. _Ah crap._

"Stiles!" Scott called again, even more urgently than before.

Stiles turned toward the direction of his best friend's voice, only to see an amber-eyed Scott almost tackle him in a vice-like embrace. Frozen in shock, Stiles just stood for a moment, absorbing what Scott's arms were doing around his shoulders.

"Stiles, you fucking asshole! Why didn't you fucking tell me!? Why didn't you blow up on me the minute it all started going downhill?! Why didn't you make my dumb ass listen to you!? I'm such a fucking idiot and I'm so sorry about everything and—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dude what are you talking about?" Stiles inquired as soon as he was released from Scott's bone-crushing hug. His best friend was panting and on the verge of completely wolfing out. "What's up with you?"

"What's up with me? You're the one I should be worried about!" Scott almost yelled. "I'm supposed to be your best friend! How come you didn't even mention anything to me?"

"Maybe I would have if you tell me what the fuck you're talking about!" Stiles yelled back.

"Stiles." Scott exhaled roughly, and looked at the asphalt beneath their feet. "Derek showed me the bandages."

Stiles felt his breath catch in his throat, and the world began to spin. "What?" it was barely more than a whisper.

"Derek showed me your bandages." Scott repeated. "Stiles… How could you do that to yourself? Do you have any idea how important you are to me? To Allison? And Lydia? And everyone else? Don't you have a fucking clue?"

"I… I don't know what you're talking about…"

"The fuck you don't! You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about! I know what's under your shirt Stiles!"

"Scott, there is nothing. I don't know what you're talking about…" Stiles whispered again, even quieter than the first time.

"Stop lying to me Stiles. I know what you've been doing to yourself. I want to know why." Scott edged closer.

"I… I have to go."

With that, Stiles threw his door open and climbed into the jeep, leaving a half-werewolfed Scott below.

"Stiles, we're not done talking!"

But Stiles wasn't paying attention. He had the jeep roaring to life, and was on his way to have a talk with Derek. _That was my secret. He fucking told Scott _MY _secret…_ Stiles was seething. Derek was going to have to explain. _I can't believe he fucking told Scott. I'm going to murder him. _

Stile_s _was now speeding down the road to his house, beyond impatient to tear into Derek for his betrayal.

_BANG!_

Stiles yanked the wheel as the jeep swerved off the road, before skidding to a stop on the shoulder. _Holy fucking Christ!_ Stiles inhaled deeply as the jeep came to a stop. _That was close…_ Stiles exited the jeep.

After inspecting the vehicle, he found that his right passenger side tire had blown; a massive tear in the rubber had flattened it to the ground. _How the fuck did that happen? _

Getting up from where he knelt, Stiles reached into his pocket to pull out his cell to call his dad.

"Hello Stiles." The all too familiarly sultry voice breathed from behind him.

Stiles turned, shock in his features. "Erika…? When did you get here? I didn't even know you were back in tow—"

_BAM! _

Stiles crumpled to the ground immediately after the vicious blow landed at his temple.


	11. Chapter 11

**So how did everyone like the curveball? Well prepare your shorts because all hell is going to break loose, so pay attention. Again, thank you to everyone who has stuck with me through this story and who have also submitted comments and reviews. Please keep them coming! I LOVE reading the feedback! Now, enjoy chapter eleven!**

Derek began growing impatient. He had been sitting in Stiles room for almost two hours now, and Stiles still hadn't come home. _What the hell is taking him so long? _Derek paced the room for the thousandth time. _It's not even that far of a drive! Maybe he is hanging out with Scott…_ Then Derek remembered that the two were fighting._ Maybe they are still talking things through? _Derek growled again, and looked at the alarm clock on Stiles' desk.

4:50pm.

_Maybe he decided he didn't want to talk, and is just taking his sweet ass time._ Derek growled at himself. _I knew it. There was no way in hell a miracle like last night would be real. There was no way it could actually last. Not with someone as perfect as Stiles. _

Derek sighed and sat on the boy's bed, which was saturated with Stiles' intoxicating scent. The memory of holding Stiles through the night played through his memory. _Why would he kiss me back if he didn't want me? _Derek thought, and is brow furrowed. _I honestly felt something there…maybe Stiles just needs some time to think things through. Yeah, that must be it. _Derek could do this all night. His mind bounced from one outcome to the next.

_Well, he probably won't be home for a while… should probably get back to the house. _Derek was a bit surprised to find himself upset at the thought of being stood up. After quickly dismissing the irrational emotion, Derek jumped out the window, heading for home.

xXxXxXxXxXx

"Message delivered." Erika scoffed. "Though I don't know why a second one was needed. I thought you already gave Derek the first one." She flipped her blond curls over her shoulder.

"Erika, Erika, Erika." The man in front of her chuckled. "The first message was obviously not taken seriously, and it seems as though Derek and his pack won't be surrendering willingly."

"Then why go after Stiles?" Erika retorted. "It's not like he is any threat. He's completely innocent. It's the others you need to worry about."

"Erika, don't argue." Boyd grabbed her shoulder.

"Fuck off, Boyd! I didn't sign up for this." She shook him off.

"Oh but Erika, you really did." A woman's voice dripped venomously. She was lithe and well-toned. Her flawless figure clad in leather pants and a jacket that matched perfectly with her ebony hair. Her red eyes were like daggers.

"Didn't we allow you two to keep your lives in exchange for your cooperation?" The man chuckled again. "Unless of course, you'd like to 'renegotiate' the terms of our agreement."

Erika growled, stepping closer to Boyd's solid figure.

"I figured as much." The woman cooed, her eyes glistening dangerously. "Now, I do believe you have one other task to accomplish."

"Won't he know something is up?" Erika challenged again. "Boyd and I literally left him hanging. Derek's not likely going to take us back without at least a little bit of suspicion."

The woman laughed. "Derek's a new alpha from what we gather. He's inexperienced, and if what you told us is true, he only has two other betas. As far as you two are concerned, you are necessities to his survival—especially after he gets our second message. Your change of heart is likely to be the last thing on his mind."

"Fine." Erika spat through gritted teeth.

"That's a good girl." The man whistled. "We expect to hear from you by sunrise."

With that, Erika and Boyd stalked out of the clearing in the woods; heading in the direction of Derek's burnt out house.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek stepped up the stairs of his house. His mind was still brooding over the fact that Stiles had failed to come home. Derek desperately wanted to make his feelings known to the boy. Derek desperately wanted to show Stiles how perfect he was in his eyes. But above all, Derek desperately wanted to kiss those beautiful lips again, and hold the beautiful boy in his arms again.

Derek sighed, and he grabbed hold of the door knob, preparing to enter the shell of his house. His eyes paused on the triangular symbol etched into the wood of the door—the lycan calling card. When he had first shown the symbol to Isaac, he had feared what was in store for the near future. Nothing, to Derek's relief, had happened—life had simply carried on, leaving the symbol to hold no meaning.

This had secretly worried Derek. If the alpha pack hadn't come yet, when would they? What would they do? What would they want? There had been no other warnings or signs besides the one in front of him. Maybe the pack had decided that Beacon Hills wasn't worth their troubles.

Derek turned the doorknob, and prepared to step over the threshold.

"Derek!"

He hadn't heard that voice in weeks… and he turned to see Erika and Boyd sprinting towards his house.

"Erika, Boyd, what the hell are you doing back here?" Derek growled.

The pair came to a halt in front of the porch. "We couldn't find another pack to take us. We had nowhere to go, no money, no food…" Boyd huffed out.

"So you just want me to take you back." Derek retorted, angry at the pair's inconsiderate behavior. "What did I tell you?"

"We know… We're sorry." It was Erika who spoke now. "But Derek… there's a problem."

"You two finally hit puberty."

Erika growled, but then composed herself. "On our way here, we saw Stiles' jeep on the side of the road."

Derek's eyes bulged, and his eyes flashed red. "Where."

"About five miles from here, on the back road coming from the high school. But that's not all…" Erika stepped closer. "Stiles wasn't anywhere near the jeep, we didn't see him anywhere."

Derek growled, and completely gave in to his inner wolf. "Get to the train depot. Isaac and Pete will be there. I'm going to look for Stiles."

"We'll come with you." Boyd volunteered.

"No. Go explain to Pete. They'll be glad to know you're back." With that, Derek leapt from the porch, sprinting into the woods, Stiles the only thing inhabiting his mind.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Stiles' eyes blinked open, the sound of crickets and other forest insects echoed all around him. The sun was setting, a golden light seeping through the trees. _Where am I?_ He remembered driving home, then his tire blowing out, and then…blank_…_ He sat up, immediately regretting the decision as blood drained from his head, leaving his right temple throbbing in agony. _God…. What the fuck happened? _

Stiles slowly looked around, waiting for the pain in his head to dull. Trees surrounded him, and the neither the road nor his jeep were anywhere in sight. He shivered as a gust of wind swept through the trees. The temperature had cooled significantly for the late spring season. _Well this is just fucking awesome. _Stiles thought._ Here I am, alone in the woods with werewolves running rampant, and I have no idea where the hell I am. _Stiles was also getting a massive headache.

At that moment, something echoed through the trees. Stiles strained his ears, trying to make out what the sound was.

"Stiles!" Derek's voiced called, getting closer.

_Derek…_ His heart soared. _Oh thank god!_

"Stiles!" Derek called again.

"Derek! I'm over here!" Stiles replied meekly, knowing Derek could hear him.

Moments passed, and Derek came sprinting into view. "Stiles! Thank god! What the hell did you think you were doing!?"

Stiles found himself in Derek's vice-like embrace, his face being pressed into Derek's shoulder. "Ow…" Stiles whimpered as the pressure triggered spasms of pain to his throbbing head.

Derek released him immediately, his red eyes searching for the cause of Stiles' pain. He growled as his eyes settled on Stiles now blackening eye. "What. The fuck. Happened to you…" Derek was seething.

"I don't know! One minute, I was looking at my flat tire, and then I just woke up. I thought you would know!"

"How the hell would I know?! I was waiting for you in your room!" Derek raged.

"Oh. Right." Stiles looked down. "Sorry."

"Stiles, don't you dare a-fucking-pologize. Who did this."

"I wish I could tell you. I don't remember anything after looking at my flat tire." Stiles murmured. "What time is it?"

"Just after eight o'clock." Derek replied, beginning to calm down.

"Ah." Then Stiles chuckled. "I guess I could have looked at my cell ph—" He patted his pockets. "Fuck, my phone is gone!"

Derek chuckled and reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, and pulled out the cell phone. "I found it near your jeep."

"Oh thank god! I can't afford a new one. Does it still work?"

"I think so." Derek replied as he handed Stiles the phone, who immediately unlocked the screen to make sure it still worked.

"Thanks." Stiles smiled at Derek, who returned the smile.

"I was beginning to think you were bailing on me."

"Well, to be honest, I was a bit nervous but I wouldn't bail on you like that." Stiles said. "But can we talk about it all tomorrow? My head is killing me, and I just want to go to bed."

"Sure." Derek smiled gently. "Let's get you home." He pulled Stiles in for another (this time gentler) embrace.

"Will you stay with me again tonight?" Stiles mumbled into Derek's shoulder.

"If you want me too." Derek whispered back.

"Is that even a question?" Stiles laughed as he pulled away.

Derek smiled in response and turned to leave.

Stiles went to put his phone in his pocket. "What the fuck…? I don't remember taking notes in class…" He withdrew a folded piece of paper.

Derek turned around.

Stiles unfolded the paper. "The fuck is this?" He looked up as he heard Derek growl, who's eyes were ruby red again, and was seething in anger and something else… fear?

Stiles looked back down at the weird symbol drawn on the. In black ink, facing the confused boy and seething werewolf, was the same triangle with angled outcrops that was etched into Derek's door.


	12. Chapter 12

**So sorry for the delay in updating everybody. Life has been a complete and utter emotional shithole, and it has affected my writing streak. Anyways, please keep the commentary coming as I love each and every word that you guys think about when reading this story, and it helps me figure out what you all like about it. Without further delay: chapter 12!**

Stiles stared out of the Camaro's tinted window, his head pounding. Derek was completely silent as he drove Stiles home—Stiles could practically feel the unease, anger, and whatever other negative emotions were vehemently rolling off of Derek's body. Derek's knuckles were white with strain as they gripped the steering wheel, and Stiles hoped Derek wouldn't rip the thing out of the dash.

"Well that was fun." Stiles chuckled uneasily, earning him a growl from Derek and nothing more. "Are you going to tell me what that symbol means?"

"It's a calling card. Two weeks ago, after the ordeal with Jackson, I found a symbol just like that on the door to my house. The only people who know about it are Isaac, Peter, and now yourself." Derek spat.

"A calling card for what?" Stiles slowly turned to look at Derek.

"Warning." Derek muttered. "For lack of a better word. There is a pack of Alpha werewolves out there, just as strong if not stronger than myself. The symbol can only mean two things: a: they want me to join their pack, or b: they want our territory."

"Which means…?"

"Which means they will kill us all to get it."

"Well fuck." Stiles sighed. "What does all this have to do with me? I mean, why attack me?"

"They might consider you a part of my pack. You're also the most fragile. They may have also sensed your…importance to the pack—to me. They made the message personal, so I think we can expect something to happen soon."

"So then what do we do now?" Stiles shifted to look back out of the window.

"For now all we can do is wait. I'll let Scott know… we might even be reduced to dragging the Argents into this." Derek growled.

"What can I do?"

Derek pulled into Stiles driveway; the sheriff was gone yet again. After killing the engine, Derek turned to face Stiles. "Stay safe." It was almost a whisper.

"Um…. Okay. I'll do my best…" Stiles chuckled awkwardly. "Are you still staying tonight?"

"Tonight's no longer a good night." Derek looked out his own window, avoiding Stiles' eyes. "After I fix your jeep and bring it back here, I'm going to talk to the others and probably do a sweep of the woods. I'm going to need to be familiar with any trails or clues lying around the city."

Stiles' heart fell. "Oh. Okay." _Well, I knew this was going to happen sooner or later. Was nice while it lasted. _Saying nothing, Stiles opened the door and climbed out of the Camaro, and went into his house, ignoring Derek's "I'm sorry."

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek left the Camaro parked where he usually did in front of his house before he had made the trek on foot back to where Stiles' jeep was. After dropping it off in Stiles' driveway, he made the trek on foot to the train depot. Strolling into the abandoned building, he immediately heard the voices of Erika and Boyd along with those of his pack.

Derek had to admit he enjoyed the aura of happiness that swelled within the gloomy area, and he could feel Isaac's excitement at having his friends back. Maybe they could all be a pack again.

"Derek! Did you find Stiles?" Isaac's voice called.

"Is he okay?" Erika chimed in.

"He's fine. I found him in the woods about two miles away from his jeep unconscious." Derek said. "He had taken a pretty hard blow to his head."

Looking around at his pack, Derek saw something flash in Erika's and Boyd's eyes. _They must be protective of him, especially Erika. She probably still has feelings for Stiles. _Derek's inner wolf growled at the thought of Stiles being pursued by another.

"Does he remember what happened?" Erika asked, jaw tight.

"No, the last thing he remembers is seeing his tire being flat."

Erika exhaled sharply. "Well…that's…not good."

Peter strode into view. "What is the sheriff going to say when he sees the bruised eye?"

Derek nodded. "Well, when I took Stiles home, his dad wasn't there, nor was he there when I dropped the jeep off. I'm assuming he is working another double shift, which means stile has some time to come up with a story."

"Uh huh…." Peter sighed.

"Pete, Isaac. Stiles found this in his pocket when he woke up." Derek growled, withdrawing the paper with the drawing on it from his pocket.

"And that means…" Isaac yawned.

"It means that the alpha pack is willing to go to any length to take us down—even if it means involving humans." Peter snapped. "It also means that Stiles, his dad, or any other non-werewolf we may have been associated with is in danger."

"Well that's not good." Isaac scoffed.

"It's good that you're taking everyone's safety seriously." Derek growled. _Stiles' safety._ He mentally corrected himself. "Besides, Stiles is resting now, safe at home. I'm going to scout out the woods around the city; see if I can find any clues to the packs' whereabouts."

"No! Let Boyd and I do it." Erika interrupted. "It'll give us something to do."

"This isn't a game. I should be the one to do it. They are looking for me." Derek replied.

"Which means you are in even more danger. What if they don't want to recruit you? What happens to all of us if we lose you?"

_Since when did Erika get a brain? Besides, if Erika and Boyd did the scouting, he could stay with Stiles. Maybe even see if he remembered anything. _Derek sighed. "Alright fine. You two do the scouting, Peter, Isaac, you and I will see if we can find anything around town."

"Why don't you check on Stiles. I'm sure he could use your assistance." Peter said pointedly to Derek.

Derek looked back at him. Peter's eyes flashed, seeming to understand just why Derek needed to go back to Stiles. "Fine. You two will be alright?"

"You kidding? A scavenger hunt will hardly be a challenge." Isaac snorted.

And with that, the three groups went their separate ways.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Stiles stared into his bathroom mirror. The bruise on his cheek was beginning to yellow, and fade. _Ugh… that makes me even uglier. _His lip had scabbed over, and the swelling had gone down to a normal size. His newest bruise was still throbbing, and with it his entire head seemed to be compounding into one big migraine.

_God what is it with everyone and wanting to hit me…?_ The bruised had deepened, and a shadow of purple and blue began to seep its way down his temple and under his eye. _What am I going to tell my dad? Lacrosse is over… _Stiles thought. _I'll have to think of something. _

Stiles deftly brushed his teeth, and retreated to his bedroom. Turning on the bedroom light, he stripped to his briefs and threw on a pair of flannel pajama pants. He then slowly lumbered to his desk where he sat down, his head pounding. The clock on his desk read 11:30pm. Stiles yawned.

"Should we get you into bed?" Derek's voice whispered behind him.

Stiles near fell out of the chair. "Derek what the fuck!?

"Sorry." The man chuckled from where he stood in the shadows by the open window.

After Stiles recovered he turned around, finding himself gawking at the brooding man in the corner, all anger gone. "Derek…um…you…I…knock…window…hey."

"Are you okay?" Derek stepped into the light of the desk lamp, reaching his hand forward to examine Stiles' injury. "Does it hurt?"

Stiles' breath caught in his throat at Derek's proximity. "Umm… It throbs a little, but it's the headache that hurts."

Derek leaned forward, and pressed his lips gently to Stiles' forehead. "Better?"

"I wish." Stiles whispered.

"I figured. I just wanted an excuse to kiss you." Derek chuckled.

Stiles blushed, and looked into Derek's eyes. "I thought you had to scout for the alpha pack tonight?"

"The others are handling it. Peter wanted me to check on you. I think he knows."

"Knows…what?" Stiles asked.

"How I feel about you." Derek whispered.

"Oh…" was all Stiles could get out.

"C'mon. Let's tuck you in." Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles' waist, guiding him to the bed.

Once at the bedside, Stiles paused rather than climbing under the Derek now held out for him. He wanted to cling to the stronger man for hours, and not let go.

"Stiles, this usually only works if you get under the covers." Derek remarked.

"Oh. Right." Stiles frowned and climbed into the cool sheets. "Good night Derek." But his eyes remained fixed on the man aside the bed, who only stood there smiling softly.

"Stiles…" Derek whispered.

"Hmmm?" Stiles looked up.

"I could stand here and watch you, but that would be rather uncomfortable." Derek joked with a chuckle. "Scoot over."

Stiles heart stopped, and he found he couldn't move. _Oh my god oh my god oh my god. Derek wants to stay here… Again... With me... In my bed... While I'm shirtless... What. The. Unforgivable. Fuck. _

"Or I could leave…" Derek turned to go.

"NO!" Stiles snapped too, and slid to the opposite side of the bed.

"Thought so." Derek chuckled, and kicked his shoes off before sitting on the side of the bed. He turned his head around to gaze at Stiles. "I should probably turn the light off."

"Right." Stiles blushed redder, and turned over. _This is really happening. Is he drunk? Why would he want to stay with me? _Stiles mind whirled and whirled, interrupted only when the flick of the light switch plummeted the room into darkness. He heard something soft fall to the floor, and then the sheets rustled.

In moments, Stiles felt Derek's strong hand snake its way around his waist and pulled him into Derek's chest—his bare chest. Stiles' heart rate quickened. _Oh god please no. Not now. _Stiles pleaded with the heavens as he felt his erection grow stiffer by the second beneath his oh-too-thin pajama pants.

"Are you okay?" Derek chuckled, and his hot breath caressed the back of Stiles' neck.

"Umm… I'm fine. You know. Just. Getting some sleep." Stiles' heart pounded.

"Stiles, don't have a heart attack." Derek laughed again.

_How can I not!? You aren't wearing a fucking shirt!_

Derek pulled against Stiles' hip, turning him around so Stiles was facing Derek. Stiles felt Derek's arms wrap around the small of his bare back, and pulled him into Derek's chest.

"You're so beautiful." Derek inhaled.

_What?_ "Right." Stiles whispered in reply against Derek's shoulder. He felt Derek's arms tighten around him.

"I mean it. You. Are. Beautiful." Derek whispered, a serious tone in his voice.

Stiles felt Derek's thumb gently caress the scabbed over gashes on his side.

"Maybe one day I can get you to believe it."

Stiles said nothing. He didn't know what to say. _No one has ever said something like that to me before. Am I really as beautiful as he says? I can't be. I'm not perfect. Nowhere near. Why would he call someone like me beautiful?_

Stiles felt the all-too-familiar tears begin to well in his eyes. _Don't you dare fucking cry. Don't you do it. Don't. _

"Stiles." Derek tilted the boy's face to meet his own. "I mean it. I know you don't believe me now, but you are beautiful. You. Are. Beautiful. You. Are. Perfect. You are beautiful and perfect to me."

With those words Stiles, felt Derek's lips softly press against his own, and Stiles couldn't control it anymore. As he melted into the kiss, the tears he had been holding back slowly slipped from the corners of his eyes, trickling down his cheeks. _No I'm not. I can't be. _

But regardless of the dark thoughts rolling through Stiles' mind, Derek kept whispering "You are beautiful" after the kiss ended, and Derek continued to stroke Stiles' injuries. Eventually Stiles found himself asleep against Derek's chest while the man who held him whispered the mantra over and over again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello everyone! I apologize for the delay but I have been completely bogged down in life. Not to mention I have been completely freaking out by the fact that teen wolf premiers on Monday. So again, sorry for the delay, but please keep the commentary coming. I love reading your thoughts about how this story is going! Please enjoy chapter 13!**

"We were beginning to think that you weren't coming Erika." The man in front of her chided as a father would his child.

"Derek got your message. He's furious." Erika said, ignoring the greeting.

"Good. We love a little ferocity in a fight, wouldn't you agree Johnathan?" The woman at his side sneered.

"When exactly do you plan on bringing the fight to him? You seem content at using me as your carrion pigeon." Erika spat, and Boyd placed a hand on her shoulder.

"No need to be hateful… tsk tsk tsk." Johnathan chided again. "Vivian, I'd say the time is close at hand."

"I agree." She smiled at Erika and Boyd.

"Now to round up Brandon, Tyson, and Nick. I'm sure that they would be highly upset if they missed the fun we are going to have with Derek and his measly pack." Johnathan leaned toward Erika, running his hand up her thigh. Boyd growled.

"I'm sure you'd like some… repayment for your services." Johnathan smiled darkly.

"I'm not your slut." Erika hissed, smacking his hand away. "You've got Vivian for that."

The dark haired woman's eyes flashed at the remark. "Watch what you say you little bitch. I'd gladly gut you for how I think you have been acting." Vivian spat.

"Now, now… No need to be feisty, love." Johnathan said with an innocent smile. "You know I have plenty of other uses for you. That one is simply my favorite." He stroked Vivian's cheek. She growled and stepped away into the shadows.

"Well. I'd say that's enough for one night. Johnathan yawned, more out of boredom than exhaustion. "Erika, be a doll and go back to Derek and his pack."

"You know he won't trust me again after he's found out where we've been." Erika hissed.

"That's not my problem." Johnathan shrugged. "He's got my message and I have more than enough leverage to bend him to my will."

"The pack is pretty strong." Erika muttered.

"Oh I'm not worried about nor am I interested in them." Johnathan sneered. "I'd say the boy is useful."

Erika's breath caught in her throat and she felt Boyd stiffen. "Leave Stiles out of this. He's not important." She whispered.

"Oh Erika love, I know when you're lying. The boy carries more than enough weight to persuade Derek to see things from our perspective. I'm sure he wouldn't hesitate to join us after the boy is…displaced."

"If you lay a finger on him I swear—"

"No use making threats love." Johnathan shrugged. "We both know they are meek and useless.

Erika growled.

"Now, go." The sun will be rising soon. I'm eager to get things going." Johnathan said, and then disappeared.

Erika turned to Boyd. "What do we do?"

"I'm not sure there is anything we can." Boyd whispered warily. "Let's hope Derek will choose to forgive us and then find a way out of this mess."

"I hope you're right." Erika said.

With that, they both turned and began running for the depot with dawn just around the corner.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Stiles' eyes fluttered open. Derek's arms were still around his waist, and Stiles felt the strong chest pressed against his back. Stiles gazed at the clock on his desk.

6:00am.

The sun was just beginning to rise outside the window, washing the morning sky in a pearly pink and orange. Birds chirped in the distance. Stiles yawned.

Derek stirred.

"Good morning sourwolf." Stiles whispered, shifting in Derek's arms so he could face the Adonis in his bed.

"Good morning." Derek smiled. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Yeah, actually. I did." Stiles smiled. "You?"

"Best I have in a while. Except for maybe the last night I spent here."

Stiles blushed. "You're just saying that."

"Nope." Derek smiled again, and planted a warm kiss on Stiles' lips.

"I could get used to that every morning." Stiles whispered contently.

"I could stay here every night if you want me too." Derek raised an eyebrow. "Though I think your dad might find out eventually." He chuckled.

"Shit that's right." Stiles groaned. "Did he catch you last night?"

"No, I hid in the closet again when he came home. He's still asleep now as well."

"Good." Stiles smiled, and kissed Derek again.

Derek smiled and returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around Stiles and pulling him as tightly against his chest as possible. Stiles then wrapped his own arms around Derek's neck, enjoying how close he was to the perfect man.

Derek's tongue swept lightly across Stiles' lower lip, who shuddered in response and opened his mouth, inviting Derek in. Derek took the invitation, and his tongue sought Stiles' all the while exploring every corner of Stiles' mouth. Stiles moaned. Derek pressed in further, relishing the taste of Stiles on his tongue.

Derek's hand slid lower on Stiles' back and across his rear pausing at the back of his thigh. Pulling swiftly, Derek hitched Stiles' leg around his hip, getting as close to the boy as possible. He could feel Stiles' growing excitement through his pajama pants, and that caused Derek's own erection to stir. Derek broke the kiss, but didn't take his lips away from Stiles' skin. Derek moved, planting kisses on and nibbling lightly on Stiles' jaw line, and moved to his neck, pausing at the collar bone. Stiles, who was moaning uncontrollably and shuddering with every movement Derek made, tightened his grip on Derek, wanting to get closer still.

Derek was growling softly as he nibbled at Stiles' flesh. The boy tasted even more heavenly than he smelled, and at that very moment his scent was almost all that Derek could think about. The only thing more appetizing than the smell of his boy was his taste. Derek couldn't wait to taste more of him.

Stiles was groaning and whining in pleasure. He began to thrust back and forth, rubbing himself against Derek where his leg was hitched around Derek's waist. Derek could feel his own erection hard as can be in response to Stiles' rubbing against him. This drove both Derek and his inner wolf wild, and Derek was left wanting more.

Sliding his hand back up Stiles' rear, he paused at the elastic waistband of Stiles' sweats while he looked at Stiles for approval. Stiles only pulled Derek's lips onto his own. With that, Derek slid his hand under both of the garments separating his hand from Stiles' glorious flesh, and rested on Stiles' left cheek. Derek squeezed lightly at the firm yet supple mound of flesh, and Stiles yelped and groaned in pleasure, goose bumps erupting over his entire body. Derek took this as a cue to continue, and slid the other hand underneath Stiles' pajamas. Stiles' skin felt so soft and smooth, his toned ass supple and firm beneath his hands. Derek could barely control himself.

Stiles was in heaven. He had never been touched before in the way Derek was now touching him. Derek's hands against his ass merely wet his appetite, and it was all Stiles could do to keep from completely losing control in Derek's strong hold. Stiles pulled his hands from Derek's neck and slid them across Derek's broad shoulders and down his well-defined back, bringing growls of pleasure from Derek's throat. Derek continued to nibble at Stiles' collarbone.

Derek grasped Stiles' ass cheeks again, bringing yet another yelp from his boy, and slowly moved to the center of the mound. Slowly, and carefully, Derek began to slide a finger in-between Stiles' cheeks, sending shudder after shudder through Stiles' body. Derek paused, before gliding his finger over Stiles' smooth entrance. Stiles froze. He had never felt anything like the sensations now coursing through his body, and all he wanted was for Derek to push into him. He wanted to be connected to him, in a way no other had been connected to him.

Derek seemed to feel Stiles' lust and want, and it took all he had to restrain himself. His inner wolf growled at him to continue, but Derek restrained himself.

"Stiles." He said panting. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

"It's fine Derek. I want you too." Stiles pulled himself closer again, and attempted to kiss Derek.

"No Stiles. I want to treat you right. I want to take this slow." Derek whispered. "I want to make it special for you."

Stiles' face fell. _He sees that I'm too ugly. That's why he is stopping. _"Okay…"

"Look at me." Derek paused until Stiles complied. "I really do want you. I'm just afraid I'll hurt you."

Stiles said nothing.

"I'd better get going and see what Erika and the others found."

Stiles gasped. "Erika…She did the searching?"

"Yeah. She came back in town yesterday before I came over. Why?"

Stiles heart was quickly increasing in pace. The memory of his jeep flashed back in his mind. He saw his flat tire. He heard Erika's sultry voice. Then he felt the blow. Stiles inhaled.

"Derek…" Stiles whispered.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Derek gazed at Stiles' face intensely.

"Derek… Erika was the one who attacked me." Stiles whispered hoarsely.

Derek growled, but said nothing. Then he undid himself from Stiles' hold, and climbed from the bed, pulling his shirt and shoes on.

"I'm going to fucking kill her." Derek growled. Then he opened the window, and leapt from it, leaving Stiles trembling at the memory of Erika's attack.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi folks! Ten million thousand apologies for the insane amount of time it took for me to get this chapter up. After the premier of the third season, I had an emotional break down due to the alpha pack being introduced as a completely different entity within the series than I had portrayed in my story; because of this, I feared for confusion between the two. Then I remembered that of course, this is a fan fic. I will do whatever the hell I want with the characters I use. If this upsets any of you lovely people I apologize, but the story will commence as such. Anyways, please comment and review how this is going. Love you all! **

All Derek saw was red. He had given into his alpha form, and his claws ached to tear into the flesh of his former betas for their transgression. Derek scoured the woods looking for Erika's and Boyd's scent. First stopping at his burnt-out house, he found nothing. A rendezvous at the train depot yielded as much lead to the whereabouts of the two traitors as the house did. Isaac and Peter had not returned, but that was not Derek's concern.

Derek ceased his search, coming to a stop at the overlook to beacon hills at the edge of the forest. The heated afternoon air brought a sweat from his body, which only fueled his anger more.

Derek suddenly spun on his heel and leapt, pouncing at the figure behind him and pinning them to the nearest tree by their throat.

"Derek…" Erika gasped, not attempting to fight back. "Derek… please…" Her face began to turn a light shade of violet.

"For what…?" Derek growled. "I should rip your throat out here and now." He pressed harder.

"Derek please let her go!" Boyd jumped from the trees, begging with his former alpha.

"Back off." Derek growled, pressing harder still into Erika's throat.

Her face was now a swollen indigo, and her eyes began to roll into the back of her head showing their whites.

"Derek I'm begging you please! We had no choice! They would have killed us!" Boyd pleaded stepping closer to his dying friend.

"What makes you think I won't?!" Derek roared back, gazing into the younger man's amber eyes.

Erika continued to gasp, hands flailing meekly at the grip on her neck. Derek returned his focus on her. He could feel the strength seep from her flesh as her gasps grew shallower. This wasn't him. He couldn't kill his own betas. He then released his grip, letting Erika fall into a weakened heap on the forest floor. Boyd scrambled to her side while Erika choked and sputtered as the breath returned to her deprived lungs.

"You know you two don't deserve to live." Derek growled in a low tone.

"We know…" Boyd whispered, cradling Erika into his chest.

"Do you two even have the remotest idea of the danger you put everyone in? Put _Stiles_ in?"

"We're so sorr—"Erika huffed out, before being cut off by Derek.

"You're beyond that Erika." Derek growled. "You can't be forgiven."

The girl only nodded and looked down at the leaves beneath her knees. "Is Stiles alright?"

"Why should you care?" Derek replied darkly.

"We tried to get them to leave Stiles out of this…but they knew how big of an impact he had in our pack."

"He holds more than that in our pack." Derek said matter-of-factly. "He is the most precious facet of our pack."

"Which is exactly why they targeted him." Erika cried. "He can't defend himself, and they forced us to tell them about everyone in our pack."

"So you willingly told them everything." Derek growled.

"They would have killed us!"

"You should have been willing to accept that sacrifice for the sake of the pack." Derek's claws began to protrude.

"All they want is you Derek, and they will go through any means that they have to just to do that."

"You don't think I don't know that?" Derek roared. "But what do they need me for?"

"The bigger the alpha pack, the bigger the Prime."

"The leader." Derek furthered.

"Exactly." Boyd replied. "His name is Jonathan, and there are four others—three men and a woman."

"You can't go with them Derek. You can't trust them…" Erika whispered.

"I know." Derek replied. "But I'm going to find them anyway. This needs to end—soon."

"You can't fight them. They'll kill you!" Erika pleaded. "Or let us help…let us make up for what we did."

"No. The pack will handle this without you. You two have done enough."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Boyd asked, all hope gone from his eyes.

"Leave." Derek ordered, his eyes a dark ruby. "I will not kill two of my former wolves, but you two are above reproach. You have twenty four hours to get out of town."

Erika and Boyd simply looked at the ground solemnly, nodding at the command of their former alpha. Guilt was evident in their features.

"And if I ever catch either of you back again, I won't hesitate to rip your throats out on the spot." Derek turned to leave; planning to make sure Stiles was still alright.

Both Erika and Boyd remained where they were, absorbing the consequences of their transgressions. Erika crumpled into Boyd's embrace, letting a few tears escape her control.

xXxXxXxXxXx

"Things seem to be aligning with the plan ever so nicely." Jonathan smiled, resting against the trunk of a large pine. "It won't be long before we get to meet Derek in the flesh."

"You know he won't join us." Vivian snapped stepping from the shadows. "We'll have to kill him and his pack, and all of this would have been for nothing."

"Oh come now love, I wouldn't say for _nothing_." Jonathan stepped toward her, reaching to stroke her ebony cheek. "We would have gained quite the territory—quite the feeding ground."

Vivian slapped his hand away. "Fuck off… This is a waste of time."

She turned her back to leave when Jonathan grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back, pinning her to the tree he had been resting against.

"Calm yourself Vivian." Jonathan growled menacingly, his claws digging into the flesh of her throat, drawing tiny trickles of blood. "We wouldn't want you to end up like the rest of your betas would we?"

Vivian growled and her eyes began to glow with rage.

"I thought so." Jonathan released her from his grip, but remained pressed against her body. "I have a special job for you, my flower."

Vivian remained silent, secretly wanting to rip into his jugular right there.

"I need you to remove the boy from the situation." Jonathan said nonchalantly. "He has served his purpose, and now his death will bring Derek straight to us."

"He's already coming for us." Vivian whispered. "The boy is innocent."

"My my my. Are we growing a heart, love?" Jonathan chuckled.

"Hardly." Vivian spat back. "It was just a thought."

"Indubitably." Jonathan whispered, pressing closer still. "But you _will_ kill him…Now how about we….relieve…some of that anger that is pent up inside your lovely body." He whispered in her ear, running his tongue down her cheek.

Vivian gave a fierce shove to his chest knocking him back. She roared with rage,

"There's the girl I know." Jonathan said again before leaping forward and pinning her to the tree again in a grip she could not refute. He began to rub himself into her body, the fabric of his clothing catching on her leather clad figure.

Vivian could feel Jonathan's arousal through his jeans.

"Jonathan no!" She growled struggling against his iron grip.

"C'mon love, I'll make you feel great." He said licking the skin of her throat. He moved his hands to her hips, letting his fingers slide into her trousers.

"Are we interrupting something?" Tyson scoffed, strutting into the clearing, the other two and an unknown figure in tow following behind him.

Jonathan growled, but stepped away from Vivian. "Where the fuck have you two been? I'm starving."

"It was trying to run." Nick's voice came from behind Tyson. He gave a rough shove to the figure he and Brandon had in hold. The figure stumbled forward before crashing to the ground.

The person in question was a middle aged and good looking man who was seemingly successful; given the business suit (which was regrettably in tatters) he was wearing. Silver tape kept his mouth shut. Jonathan knelt down, ripping away the gag and causing the man to yelp in pain.

"Who…who…are you?" The man trembled in Jonathan's presence.

Jonathan only chuckled. "I do apologize for the cliché, but quite literally your worst nightmare." His eyes shifted to a glowing crimson and the others closed in.

Feral growls and the man's screams echoed through woods.

**Again I am so so sorry for how long it took me to get this chapter up. But to all of you who are still reading this train wreck I fucking love you all. **


	15. Chapter 15

**So I'm kinda laughing at myself because every time I make a plan for how this story is going, I always have a better idea and so I end up changing it. So I guess I'll enjoy finding out where this story goes as much as you lovely people do reading it. Please continue to rate/comment/review/feedback. I love you all for it! K Bye!**

Scott slammed his locker, securely stowing all lacrosse equipment behind its grated door. He took another swift glance to his right as Stiles did the same thing. Stiles was…off… again today. Though he still hadn't said a word to Scott, the newly realized dark aura was emanating from his best friend. Scott ached to find out why—maybe even fix it.

Scott had his mind made-up by the time he first saw Stiles this morning in chemistry. He was going to talk to Stiles again, whether Stiles wanted to or not.

Biding his time, Scott strolled easily behind his best friend, pretending not to follow. Stiles walked with the sole purpose of getting to his jeep. Scott followed suit. His phone vibrated in his pocket as he walked, and after pulling it out to glance at who was calling, the screen informed him of his girlfriend.

_Fuck._ Scott thought. Allison could wait. She would understand. He swiped the red bar to the side, sending her to voicemail, and hurried after Stiles.

The two approached the baby blue jeep—Stiles first, followed closely by Scott.

Stiles whirled around. "What Scott." It didn't sound very much like a question.

"I just want to talk to you." Scott said innocently, holding his hands up in surrender.

"I thought I told you Scott… I just need to be mad at you for a while." Stiles looked down, avoiding Scott's eyes.

"Well I'm going to talk to you anyway. Just for a minute anyways." Scott said. "I'm extremely sorry about a couple days ago. There is nothing I can say that will justify a punch to the face. I was a complete and total insensitive dick. I had no idea that you have been going through a hard time Stiles. You'd think that me being your best friend, I would be able to pick up on that. But what you said was completely right. My head _is_ stuck up my ass. For that I'm sorry. No man should ever ignore the needs of his best friend. I know you're hurting Stiles. I don't know what may be causing you pain, and I may only have a small sense as to how much it affects you, but I want you to know Stiles that from here on out, I have your back one hundred percent. I won't force you to open your heart up to me, but the offer is on the table. If you find that you need someone to talk to, or a way to keep yourself from hurting yourself again, call me, text me, hell scream my name out your window and I will come running." Scott finished his speech and gauged Stiles' reaction.

Stiles just stood there, staring at the ground, not knowing what to say.

"Okay…" Scott sighed. "I've said my piece, and I'll leave you alone now."

Stiles looked up at his best friend, and flung his arms around his shoulders, sinking into the strong embrace. Scott, who was utterly surprised at the action, squeezed Stiles back, holding him there for a few quiet moments.

When Stiles pulled away, he turned immediately towards his jeep and opened the door, but not before Scott caught a glimpse of something shimmering in his eye. Before climbing in, Stiles turned slightly, and whispered a broken "Thank you Scott", and then started the jeep and drove away.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Stiles stared at the ceiling of his room. He had been meaning to get undressed to take a shower for the past hour, but he couldn't find the motivation. That was the thing about depression. Stiles had started to feel better. Things began looking up when Derek first stayed the night. He felt a flicker of hope when Derek kissed him goodbye that morning. He had felt wanted and needed when Derek held him again last night. But the instant Derek raced out the window this morning, it all came crumbling down and the numbness returned. The familiar sense of hopelessness had spread its icy tendrils through his veins, and he once again felt like an empty shell.

Stiles hated how his depression could just change him in an instant. In that moment, it was all he could do to refrain from taking hold of his razor. The scabbed injuries on his ribcage itched in temptation.

_I wish Derek were here._ Stiles recalled how the werewolf had seemingly banished the darkness from his heart the night he last attempted to cut. He recalled how the urge instantly vanished and the tears flowed freely in release the moment Derek's strong arms encircled him in their warm embrace.

Stiles sighed. Then there was Scott. Stiles had replayed Scott's words over and over again through his head. For lack of a better term, Stiles was shocked at what his best friend had told him. Scott wasn't usually one to accept responsibility for mistakes, but that didn't change the sincerity that Stiles heard behind every word. Scott had opened the door for Stiles to open up to him, and all Stiles had to do was step through. Stiles wasn't sure he was strong enough to do that. He groaned.

_Well, better shower if you're ganna. _Stiles told himself. He sat up and strolled to the window. _I really hope Derek comes by tonight. _Stiles silently wished to the moon outside the window. He slid it open, gazing to the forest. _At least he's out there._ Stiles thought to himself, his eyes falling on the pair of crimson eyes ensconced within the trees that could only belong to an alpha. "Please stay with me tonight." He whispered out the window, knowing the alpha hearing would be able to pick up on his plea.

He turned from the window, and stripped to the nude before walking to the bathroom. He had no need to cover up since his father wasn't home. After entering the steamy spray, Stiles let the hot water pound his shoulders before lathering himself in body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. He turned to face the spray, wincing slightly as the hot water stung his bruised face and scabbed rib cage. He reached for the knob that controlled the temperature of the water.

_ Imperfect…_ The single word echoed through his mind. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut before sharply turning the knob to the left. Steam shot up around him as the incendiary water cascaded onto his body in a distractingly scalding way. Stiles simply stood there biting his tongue against the urge to cry out in pain. His skin flared as the water caused the illusion of melting away. He stood there under the rain of fire until he could bear it no more. Reaching out a shaky hand, he turned off the scalding spray of water. His skin throbbed, but he didn't care.

He threw the shower curtain aside, and stepped from the tub, wrapping his towel around his waist. He turned to the mirror. Stiles gave a swift swipe of his hand, clearing the condensation on the glass, and stared at his reddened and inflamed face. "I hate you." He whispered, and then he yanked his aching body away from the horrific image in front of him, and left the bathroom.

He padded down the hall and entered his room.

"Stiles." Derek's voice floated from the corner by the window.

"Hey…" Stiles looked up reluctantly at the Adonis in front of him, clad in a too-tight V-neck and jeans that fit him perfectly. His hands were in his pockets.

"Are you alright?" Derek asked, his eyes boring into Stiles' heart.

"Yeah…I'm fine." Stiles swallowed.

Derek said nothing, but stepped towards the towel clad boy and grabbed his wrist. Stiles found himself slipping into Derek's arms which gently encompassed his entire torso.

"Why do you insist on lying to me?" Derek whispered, his cheek resting lightly on top of the boy's head. He gently rubbed the wet skin of Stiles' back. "Stiles, please stop doing this to yourself…" Derek pleaded, again in a whisper as he noted the above average temperature of Stiles' skin.

"I can't help it." Stiles whispered into Derek's neck. "I can't stop it." He could feel himself losing control.

"I'm so sorry." Derek gently squeezed Stiles tighter, hoping it helped and all the while wishing he could just take Stiles' pain away.

Stiles began to shudder.

"Shh….Shh… It's going to be alright Stiles. I'm here."

Stiles did everything in his power to keep himself from falling apart. The last thing he wanted was another episode of that to push Derek away too.

"C'mon." Derek whispered. "Let's get you dressed and in bed."

Stiles nodded, and felt Derek's reluctance to let his arms fall. Once released, Stiles stepped over to his dresser and pulled out a fresh pair of black briefs. Glancing over his shoulder, he found Derek turned towards the window, letting him have his privacy. Grateful, Stiles quickly pulled them on, followed by a pair of light lounge pants. Derek turned around.

"You're very beautiful." Derek whispered as he stepped closer to Stiles, who just looked at the ground. "I mean it. You don't see it, but I do." He wrapped his hands around Stiles again, before quickly picking him up.

Stiles relished the feel of Derek's arms around him, though he didn't believe the words from his mouth. He snuggled closer to Derek while he was taken to the bed and was gently deposited on top of the comforter. Derek stepped to turn out the light.

Once swathed in darkness, Derek removed his shirt and shoes and stepped to the bed, lying next to Stiles. He pulled Stiles against his chest. Stiles snuggled as close as he could get, inhaling the musky scent wafting up from Derek's skin.

"I don't know how yet, but I'm going to make you believe." Derek murmured to Stiles. "You are going to see what I see."

"Why bother?" Stiles said.

"Because I l…care about you so much." Derek whispered, catching himself. _But you do love him._ He told himself._ I know. He won't believe me if I tell him though. _

"You don't haveto you know." Stiles whispered. "I'm sure you have other things to worry about."

"Stiles…" Derek lightly growled. "You are _the_ most important thing to me. Nothing else matters."

Stiles said nothing. He just clutched closer to Derek's beautiful chest for fear that he would suddenly disappear like everything good in his life so often did. Stiles felt Derek press his lips onto his head. _I love you Derek._ Stiles thought. He knew he couldn't tell Derek himself, because he eventually would be gone. _But that doesn't change the fact that I do. _Stiles sighed, and Derek's arms wrapped around him even tighter.

There they stayed, wishing to tell their love to each other, but frightened to do so. Eventually Stiles fell into a slumber, leaving Derek to brood over the facet of perfection in his arms, wishing he could make Stiles happy.

The breeze outside had stilled, the trees' whispers ceased to fly through the night, and the two ruby eyes Stiles had seen turned from the view of the house, and disappeared into the woods.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hi everybody! Thank you so much for all of your feedback! It is incredible, and I enjoy reading all of them Please please PLEASE keep them coming! Heart you all! Chapter 16!**

Stiles awoke yet again at 6:00am on this overcast Friday morning; the only difference was that his bed (save for him) was empty. Derek was gone, and so were his shirt and shoes. His body ached for the feel of Derek's strong arms around him like they had the three previous mornings.

Stiles rolled over, and found a scrap piece of paper from his desk lying on his pillowcase. Derek's clumsy scrawl made its way across the scrap.

**Good morning beautiful,**

** I had something to take care of today. Seeing as it is Friday however, I would like to get away from all the bullshit that has gone down this week. Would you consider meeting me at the Beacon Hills overlook tonight around nine? I figured it would be quiet and away from everything here in town. **

** I'm hoping you'll be there...**

**~ D.**

Stiles set the note down. _Well, at least I didn't screw anything up…_ He thought. The only problem now however, was how Stiles was going to make it through yet another fucking day of school when Derek's mysterious note had set him on edge. What would Derek expect to do once they met up? Stiles hoped it wouldn't be anything like sex in the forest (though secretly he did). What if Derek had bad news to talk to Stiles about? What if Derek realized how pathetically beyond help Stiles' fucked up self was? What if he told him to never speak to him again?

_I wouldn't put it past him…_Stiles inwardly sighed. _I'm nowhere near perfect enough for someone as perfect as Derek. _

Stiles ran his hand through his hair and his stomach growled, causing him to pull himself out of his bed to get some breakfast. He pulled a shirt on, and headed downstairs.

Upon arriving into the kitchen, Stiles found his dad sitting at the table with a mug of coffee in hand.

"Good morning Stiles." The sheriff greeted him.

"Morning dad." Stiles replied, pausing at the refrigerator. "Long night?"

"Extremely." His dad said solemnly. "Listen… I have to ask you a favor."

" Sure." Stiles agreed easily. "What is it?"

"Well… I know you and Scott have been spending a lot of time in the woods and such, and I get it… That's what you teenagers like to do… But I was hoping that if I asked… Would you please stay out of the woods for the time being?" The sheriff avoided his son's confused expression.

"Why?" Stiles said, nothing on his mind other than the fear of not being able to meet Derek tonight.

"Two days ago… a man by the name of Charles Schenk went missing. His car was still parked outside his office at the Beacon Hills Law firm, and all his belongings remained." The sheriff paused.

"And….. Did you find him?" Stiles pressed.

"Yeah… we found him. What's left of him anyway." The sheriff looked down. "Seems as though he had been mauled to death by some type of animal. Even more so than that Hale girl we found last year."

_Werewolves…_ Stiles immediately jumped to conclusion. Derekwould know something about it.

"Ummm…. Yeah sure…" Stiles stammered out. "I'll stay away from the woods. You got it." He was glad that his dad couldn't pick out his lie as well as Derek would have been able too.

"Thanks son…" His dad looked visibly relieved. "And Stiles?"

"Yeah dad?"

"Are you alright?" This time, Sheriff Stalinski looked straight at his son. "You haven't been much of yourself for the past few months… Not that things have been one hundred percent alright… but I'm worried."

Stiles swallowed. "Yeah dad… I'm alright. Just stressed out about school and stuff."

"You sure?" His father pressed.

"One hundred percent." Stiles faked a smile.

"Okay buddy. Don't make me have to worry about you more than I already do."

"I won't dad." Stiles forced a chuckle. "I'd better go get ready for school."

No longer hungry, Stiles left his dad to his coffee and proceeded upstairs to prepare for the long fucking day he had to make it through.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek had left a beautifully slumbering Stiles to sleep in peace around 4:00am. A strange scent—saturated in a sharp and spicy smell with a hint of femininity—had wafted in the window. Judging by the scent of pine that flowed with it, Derek had assumed it came from the woods just beyond Stiles' yard.

Deciding to follow it (while secretly hoping it would lead him to the alpha pack so he could take them on once and for all), he found himself at the bank of a river on the border of Beacon Hills city limits, about two miles east of Stiles' house.

The fact that the scent had simply disappeared irritated Derek. For a pack of wolves, they were really good at covering their tracks. Now Derek had no idea which way to go. He'd have to consult with Peter to be sure of what plan of action take.

After another three hours of searching and coming up empty, Derek headed for home. He showered, dressed, and then prepared for what he was going to do tonight with Stiles. Searching the floorboards of the upper level of the half burnt-half rebuilt house, Derek found the object of his desire. In his hands was a long, flat box, covered in crushed velvet. He pulled it close to his chest, as he contemplated what was in his future tonight.

xXxXxXxXxXx

_8:30pm. _

_ Fuck…_ Stiles cursed in his mind. The time couldn't possibly move any fucking slower than it had all day. School was a bitch. Getting home was a bitch. Doing his homework was a bitch. Being alone was a bitch. Everything was just one big bitch.

As fifteen more minutes slowly, and he was now dressed in the tightest V-neck he had, his favorite pair of jeans, and a leather jacket, finishing himself up with a spritz of his Dad's cologne, Stiles figured it was safe to drive to the lookout. He didn't even bother looking in the mirror for fear of losing what little confidence he could muster up today.

On the road, it was all Stiles could do to keep from going ninety up the forest pathway. Pulling up to the clearing, Stiles turned off and stepped down from his jeep, pausing to look over the expanse of city lights in front of him.

The clouds had also cleared, leaving millions of twinkling diamonds and one overly large and pearly, waning crescent moon in the expanse of the sky. Derek however was nowhere to be found.

Stiles took a seat on the nearest outcrop of stone and pulled out his cell phone.

_9:10pm_ the screen read.

_Please show up…_ Stiles once again pleaded to the moon above his head.

As if on point Derek's voice lulled from the darkness behind him in a light "Hello beautiful."

Stiles turned to meet his safe harbor, eyes widening in worry when he saw Derek's jaw drop. "Derek… What's wrong?" Stiles bit his lip hoping Derek wouldn't run away screaming.

"You look…" Derek struggled for the right word. "Stunning."

Stiles felt his cheeks redden, and he looked down. _You're lying._ He silently accused Derek.

Derek however, heard the increase in his lover's heartbeat, and he strode forward, wrapping his arms around Stiles inhaling his intoxicating scent. Derek felt like he could stay like this forever, letting all that was Stiles permeate his mind and memory so that he never forgot the angel front of him.

"Sorry about just leaving this morning." Derek whispered.

"At least you left a note this time instead of just taking off." Stiles chuckled into Derek's chest, wrapping his arms around Derek's back. Stiles then felt Derek press his lips onto his forehead.

"I could devour you right here." Derek chuckled.

"Should I be scared?" Stiles looked up at him.

"Never." Derek replied. "I'd never do anything to hurt you."

_Don't make promises you can't keep._ Stiles mentally whispered.

"So are you going to tell me why we're here?" Stiles asked.

"Well… I wanted to give you something." Derek whispered, pulling away.

"Like… what?" Stiles said, his guard immediately up.

"Here." Derek withdrew the long velvet box from his back pocket, and opened it in front of Stiles' eyes.

Stiles gasped at the sight before his eyes.

"It's a moonstone necklace." Derek told him. "It belonged to my mother before she died. I don't know how I got lucky enough to salvage it from the ruins of our house."

Stiles said nothing. Words could not describe the emotions whirling around in his heart. Nestled in the satin fabric of the box, was a pendant attached to a leather chord. The pendant itself was a type of metal woven intricately to create a perfect circle, which was slightly tarnished (probably due to the fire that was unable to destroy it). But in the center of the necklace was a stone that Stiles had never seen before. It dangled by a ring of the same tarnished metal from the top of the circle, but the stone itself seemed unharmed by the fire. The color was exquisite, at one angle it seemed clear, but when Derek shifted the box from hand to hand, it began to sparkle luminously with the same pearly blue as the moon above them.

"I want you to have it Stiles." Derek whispered.

Stiles stood silently, his only movement was to stretch out a finger to caress the pendant before him.

"Stiles please say something." Derek begged, stepping closer.

"Derek… I… I can't take this from you." Stiles whispered looking down. "It's too precious to be given to the likes of me."

Derek cupped Stiles' chin with his free hand, forcing Stiles to look him in the eye. "You are _beyond _worthy of it Stiles." Derek said assuredly. "This once held the only reminder of my family—my home. Now it belongs to you. _You _Stiles…_You_ are my home now."

With that, Derek removed the pendant from the box, and turned Stiles around. Undoing the clasp, he fastened it around the slender porcelain of Stiles' neck. Once the pendant hung down on Stiles' perfect chest, Stiles brought a hand to caress it. He turned, his eyes sparkling with the same luster as the moonstone now on his chest.

"I don't know what to say Derek…" Stiles whispered.

"Then don't say anything." Derek said, closing the distance between them, locking his lips with Stiles.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, completely melting into the stronger man's kiss. Both of their hearts sang at the recognition of the newly understood bond between them. Derek meant every word he said. He was Stiles'. Stiles was his.

Once again, the darkness seemed to vanish from Stiles' heart. Stiles pressed harder into the kiss, never wanting to let go.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Their meeting had come to a close. Stiles' heart was light as a feather; Derek and his wolf howled inwardly with glee at the way the night had turned out.

After hours of each other's company, Stiles left for home around midnight with the promise that Derek would meet him in his room in an hour.

Stiles drove peacefully, one hand clutching the steering wheel, the other caressing the precious gift from Derek that now hung from his neck. For once his thoughts did not whirl, did not overwhelm. There was nothing but serenity within Stiles.

Bringing his gaze back to the road, Stiles jolted from his enamored trance, slamming on his brakes causing his wheels to lock and the screech and smell of burning rubber to fill the cab of the jeep.

His efforts weren't enough.

_**SLAM!**_

The hood of his jeep collided with the body standing blindly in the road, sending the figure sprawling through the air.

_Oh god please no… dear god please please please no._ Stiles tore off his seatbelt and threw the door to his jeep open, running to the aid of the body he had hit.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek breathed easily. _Maybe I am finally getting through to Stiles._ He said to himself, a smile on his lips. He looked over the glowing expanse that was Beacon Hills below him. He couldn't be happier. Stiles was his, and he knew it. His heart sang.

The breeze began to pick up, swirling through the trees. With it wavered the sharp and spicy scent Derek had found earlier that morning. Something was wrong. Why was Stiles' scent with it? And… blood?

Derek's heart stopped. His eyes burst to an incendiary red and his claws and fangs shot out. He spun around and sped off in the direction the scent swept from.

xXxXxXxXxXx

"Oh my god! Oh shit! Oh my god! Oh my god! Please be okay!" Stiles pleaded with the heavens and whoever may have been listening that the woman sprawled on the road in front of him was alright. Stiles rushed to her side crouching down. "Lady! I'm so sorry! I'm so so so sorry!"

Tears flowed freely from his eyes as the leather clad, beautiful woman in front of him did not move.

"Please don't be dead! Oh please please please don't be dead!" Stiles flustered his hands over her seemingly broken body wishing he knew what the fuck to do.

Collecting himself he pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed 911. Holding the phone to his ear, he heard the ringing of the line.

The woman's hand snapped up from the ground, seizing his wrist causing him to drop the phone. She sat up slowly. Turning her head to face a now petrified Stiles. She opened her eyes, and Stiles found himself lost in the depth of two glowering, crimson eyes.


	17. Chapter 17

There was no oxygen in his lungs. The grip on his wrist grew tighter, causing increased pain with each passing second until it slipped into a state of numbness. The crimson eyes before him did not leave his face.

"I can hear your heartbeat." The woman purred. "I can see his infatuation with you. You smell absolutely…delicious."

Stiles simply stared. The iron vice around his wrist had ceased to exist as all sense of feeling died away. He knew he couldn't pull away. There was no way he could fight the strength of an alpha. If he did somehow manage to break free, she would take him down in a matter of seconds. This was it.

The woman got to her feet, dragging a limp Stiles with her. She used her free hand to dust the dirt from her body before turning her attention back to Stiles. She pressed in closely, inhaling yet again. "It's a shame you had to be the one whose throat I had to rip out," the woman said, running her tongue under Stiles' jaw line. "You really are quite adorable. I would have loved to change you."

Stiles swallowed. "You know…"He whispered hoarsely, barely finding his voice. "I don't really play for your team…so wouldn't you rather play with someone who would enjoy it?"

The woman slammed Stiles against the hood of his jeep. "You're quite the comic, I have to admit." She snorted. "No wonder Erika was so attached to you." Her fangs protruded.

"She told you about me?" Stiles gawked.

"She told us about everyone in your pathetic pack. It sounds like an interesting bunch of pubescent amateurs. Of course it wasn't really her fault. She and her mate only wanted to live for a few more days."

"Don't you dare hurt them." Stiles puffed his chest out, rewarding him with a giggle.

"You're not really in a position to be making threats now are you?" The woman giggled. "Besides, after all that has happened why do you care what becomes of them?"

Stiles felt her claws digging into the flesh of his wrist, and the warm trickle of blood that accompanied it. "They're still my friends." Stiles said, unable to find anger at the obvious betrayal.

"Pathetic." The woman retorted.

"What's with all the talking?" Stiles piped. "If you're going to kill me just get it over with."

"My my my aren't we eager?" The woman laughed. "Fine then. Have it your way."

Stiles heard the cracking of bones as the woman in front of him shifted into her canine form preparing to rip his throat out. The feral growl erupted from her maw, as she lurched forward.

As he heard the sound, Stiles closed his eyes, waiting for however much torture her teeth would bring as they tore into his flesh—but no such thing came. The woman's body was pulled viciously away from him and thrown a few yards back.

Derek's own roar erupted from his chest as he crouched defensively in front of Stiles. Recovering from the surprise attack, the woman crouched herself into a vindictive stance, baring her teeth at Derek.

"Finally I get to meet you Derek." She sneered. "Erika's told me so much about you."

Derek only growled in response.

"Not very chivalrous of you. Didn't your mother ever teach you to talk to women with respect? Before she burned that is."

That did it. Derek leapt forward, lashing out with his claws to which the woman dodged gracefully. She responded with a spinning kick to the back of Derek's head, sending him flying forward.

Derek recovered quickly and spun on his heel, sending another swipe at the woman, this time catching her just above the hip. She howled in pain as blood began to ooze from her side. Derek took the opportunity to send a right hook to her jaw, knocking her a few feet away from Stiles.

"Stiles GO!" Derek shouted at the petrified boy, still standing by his jeep. Stiles snapped too and did as he was told, yanking open the door to the jeep and climbing in. The engine roared to life.

Stiles stomped on the gas and sped past the two werewolves. Derek returned his sights to the woman.

He stalked forward, raising his hand to claw again at the ebony woman in front of him. She sent the heel of her boot upward, striking Derek in the chin before clawing at his chest in a fury of swipes. The garment shredded like tissue paper with the flesh beneath it, causing Derek to bleed profusely. He howled. Catching her hand, he yanked her forward before ramming his forehead into her own before giving a sharp pull on her wrist. The dull snap of the bone brought a yelp from her lungs just before Derek swiped again at the skin of her back, again drawing blood.

She stepped away from Derek, clutching her broken wrist to her chest. She roared at him before charging forward, causing Derek to charge too. But before Derek could tackle her, the furious woman leapt up into the air, twisting over his hurtling body. She swiped at his shoulder, tearing the flesh just above Derek's clavicle. Landing on the ground, the woman immediately charged again, and was upon Derek before he had even gained his footing. The woman again leapt into the air, straddling her legs around Derek's neck. Diving back, she pulled Derek with her, bringing Derek's heavy body crashing to the dirt path. She deftly rolled away and leapt on Derek's body again sinking her teeth into the flesh of his shoulder again. Derek howled in pain, and in response sunk his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder.

She howled, and pulled away, leaping up from where she had pinned Derek to the ground. Meeting Derek's ruby eyes with her own, she growled at him before spinning on the heel of her boot and darting into the woods like a bullet from a gun, leaving Derek panting on the forest floor.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Stiles did not ease on the gas pedal until he was in his driveway. Resting his head on the Jeep's seat, he closed his eyes and inhaled. He was alive. He was okay. Derek had protected him. Derek had fought the female alpha who was trying to kill him. Stiles prayed that Derek would be okay. He had a feeling that somehow Derek would be, he always seemed to make it out of all of the confrontations they had encountered in the past. Yet an insatiable fear lay pitted in Stiles' stomach, making him afraid that Derek wouldn't survive.

_He's fine. Derek's fine. He can handle himself. He's going to come back. He has to. _Stiles sent another prayer to the stars above before he climbed out of his jeep.

Once safely locked in his room Stiles sat on the edge of his bed. The only sound in the room was his heartbeat. The seconds that ticked by turned into minutes. Eventually time just blurred by in a seemingly different language than Stiles knew. He simply waited for Derek, hoping the alpha would be alright.

Another unknown amount of time ticked by, leaving Stiles in worry. When a soft tap occurred on his window, Stiles sighed audibly in relief and leapt up to open the window when Stiles stopped, gaping in horror.

Rushing to the window and throwing it open, Stiles pulled a bloodied and enfeebled Derek through the opening. He staggered under the weight of the alpha.

"Oh my god Derek!" Stiles cried.

"I'm fine." Derek huffed out, exhausted. "Just a few scratches."

"Derek you're _gushing_ blood!" Stiles stumbled over to his bed and helped Derek down onto the mattress. Derek grimaced in pain.

Stiles ran to the bathroom to grab his first aid kit, pulling out as much cotton and gauze as he could find. He returned to his room to find Derek passed out from the pain. Stiles' heart sunk.

xXxXxXxXxXx

"Ah Vivian." Johnathan said. "I trust the boy is dead." He turned to see Vivian stumble laboriously into the moonlit clearing. She was covered in dried blood and she clutched her wrist to her chest.

"I almost had him, and then Derek showed up." She spat in reply.

"You didn't kill them both… why?" Johnathan growled.

"He's a good fighter." Vivian huffed out.

"Too good for you?" The prime growled in irritation. "I've put my faith in the wrong person."

"I did my best!" She spat.

"Then your best obviously wasn't good enough." Johnathan spat. "You disgust me."

Howls erupted from the surrounding trees, and Tyson, Brandon, and Nick came running into the clearing.

"Vivian!" Brandon yelled rushing to the injured woman's aid. She collapsed into the man's strong embrace, exhausted.

"She's fine." Johnathan spat.

"She's fucking ripped open!" Brandon screamed back, his eyes glowing crimson at the Prime before him.

"She was weak. She couldn't even kill the human."

"Here's an idea. How about you get off your ass and do your own fucking killing." Brandon spat back, baring his fangs at the prime.

The prime howled and sent a vicious swipe at the pair. Blood spattered the surrounding wild grass. "I'd speak carefully if I were you." Johnathan growled deeply. The command was clear underneath his words. Retaliate and die. The alpha wolves in front of him sank to the ground in submission. Vivian whimpered as Brandon's blood oozed from a gash on his cheek.

The alphas did not say another word.

"If it's a fight Derek wants then it's a fight he'll get." The prime growled. "We move in before the next full moon."

The wolves in front of him bowed down. The prime ripped a section of his shirt off and threw it at Brandon and Vivian. "Clean your pathetic faces off. I'm sick of looking at those pathetic wounds." He turned and stalked off into the darkness.

"I want him dead." Vivian whispered into Brandon's chest when the prime and the other two wolves were gone.

"I know. Derek will pay for what he did." Brandon replied.

"I'm not talking about Derek." Vivian whispered, as a tear slipped down her bloodied cheek.


	18. Chapter 18

**I'm hoping that a lot of you are still with this story. If you are I love you for it. I'm just giving you all a heads up that this chapter changes point of view quite often so sorry if that confuses you. Please continue to keep the reviews coming. I love all the feedback I can get. Please follow and favorite!**

Stiles paused in the doorway: afraid he was running out of time, afraid he couldn't help the man he loved, afraid that he wasn't skilled enough to help. He bolted forward, throwing the supplies that he had gathered on the bed beside Derek's unconscious form. Stiles knelt at the bedside, cupping Derek's chin in his left hand.

"Derek! Derek! Please wake up!" Stiles begged.

Derek's hazel eyes drifted open and he inhaled a shallow breath.

_Thank you God!_ Stiles exhaled audibly in relief.

"Stiles…" Derek huffed out in a labored whisper. "Are you alright?" He turned to look wearily at his lover.

"I'm fine. Thanks to you." Stiles assured Derek with a smile, cupping his face gently in his palm.

Derek exhaled something that Stiles thought should be words, but Derek's eyes were closing, seemingly cutting off his sentence as well.

"No Derek." Stiles commanded more soundly than he felt. "I need you to stay with me."

Derek complied, grimacing in effort and pain.

"Stiles I'm so tired…" Derek whispered.

"I know Derek. I know." The anxiety was seeping into his voice. "Let's get this shirt off so I can patch you up."

Stiles braced Derek behind his shoulders and he attempted to help him into a sitting position. The movement caused Derek to groan in pain and there seemed to be an audible _rip_ as blood began to flow freely from the wounds on Derek's body. Derek fell back onto the mattress gasping for breath, pain evident on his features.

"Okay plan B." Stiles said, looking around his room aimlessly for whatever the hell plan B was. His eyes scanned the desk at the wall and he spotted a pair of scissors in the pencil cup near his computer.

Stiles leapt from his position at Derek's side and was back in an instant with the shears in hand. With a few quick snips, Derek's shirt was in bloodied ribbons on the floor. At the sight of Derek's chest, Stiles held back an audible whimper as he noted the damage that had been done to his protector. Gashes ran up and down his sides, crosshatching his lower abdomen which still oozed with quite the supply of crimson blood, and his shoulder was oozing blood from what appeared to be a bite wound.

"Stiles…" Derek huffed again. "It's not that—"

"Derek Hale, shut the hell up." Stiles commanded, regaining his burst of courage. "Don't you dare play this off."

As the words flew out of his mouth, Stiles' hands found a large pad of cotton and a bottle of antiseptic. Dousing the pad, he began to gently dab the wounds on his lover's chest and shoulder, whispering feather-like "I'm sorry's" as he did so when Derek bit his lip against the pain.

Next, Stiles took one of the rolls of gauze and began wrapping a thick layer around Derek's bitten shoulder as it was the easiest place to access. When the wound was securely ensconced in a quickly-reddening white, Stiles gently caressed Derek's face.

"Babe, this is going to hurt like a bitch, but I'm going to need to sit you up to bandage you." Stiles put as much apology into his voice as he could.

Derek's eyes opened again, and he gazed at Stiles with his beautiful eyes, nodding slowly. He grimaced briefly, audibly groaned, and sat up in agony of his own accord. His breath came rapidly as he focused on keeping the agony at bay while Stiles wrapped him in white cotton as quickly as his imperfectly human hands could. To fully extend his reach, Stiles climbed onto the bed positioning himself behind Derek, also bracing him in support.

When the roll of gauze was gone, Stiles tossed the empty spool to the floor of his bedroom. Stiles sank back against the headboard of his bed, and Derek collapsed back into him, knocking the wind briefly from his lungs.

_Shit he's heavy._ Stiles laughed to himself. He didn't mind at all. Derek exhaled loudly.

"Are you doing alright Derek?" Stiles whispered into his ear, tucking his head into the crook of Derek's neck.

Derek didn't reply.

_Maybe he already fell asleep._ Stiles thought to himself. "Derek?" He whispered again.

"You know…" Derek laboriously whispered. "I like 'babe' much more."

Stiles smiled and planted a soft kiss on Derek's cheek, feeling the blush flow into his own.

"No need to be embarrassed." Derek chuckled lightly, noting the increase in Stiles' heartbeat.

"Thank you for saving me tonight." Stiles whispered.

"No one is going to hurt you while I'm around." Derek gazed at Stiles assuredly. "I'm not going to lose you to the likes of them. I'm not going to lose you period. Ever."

Stiles said nothing. He simply wrapped around his arms gently around the torso of his lover, breathing in his musky scent. "I love you Derek."

Stiles felt a hand on top of his own. _Oh. No. I did not say that out loud._

"Yes you did." Derek replied, seeming to read Stiles' thoughts. There was a smile in his weary voice.

"I meant… I appreciate the way you saved me tonight. I would have been dead if—"

"Stiles." Derek said sternly. "Shut up."

"Right." Stiles looked down, his face completely scarlet.

"And I love you too." Derek said, pressing his head back into Stiles' shoulder.

Stiles smiled, and pressed a kiss on top of Derek's head. Stiles felt Derek's reciprocation on the back of his hand. Derek turned his face to gaze up at Stiles, who cradled him in the crook of his arm.

"This is nice." Derek whispered. "Apart from the pain and all."

Stiles smiled again. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so… light—so buoyant. "You must be exhausted." Stiles whispered, gazing at the clock whose face read 1:15am.

Derek said nothing. He simply gazed at the angel who held him.

xXxXxXxXxXx

All pain had seemingly vanished into thin air. Though it would take longer for his wounds to heal as they were from and alpha, Derek already felt like he was on the mend. Stiles was like a barrier to any discomfort that he should be drowning in right now. As Derek stared at his guardian angel, the boy who held him, he realized he felt right as rain. A feeling he didn't remember ever feeling before.

So Derek simply stared at the beautiful face. Stiles was a wonder to behold—sitting behind him with the moon in his eyes and the pendant around his neck. Derek sent a silent prayer towards the heavens, thanking whoever was watching over him for the gift of Stiles' love—there was no way someone such as Derek was worthy of such divine favor. Therefore, on Derek stared—and Stiles gazed right back at him.

Moments passed in a blissful silence. Stiles' scent—the embodiment of perfection—permeated the atmosphere around the two. All of it was so soothing. Derek was in paradise.

There was a light rumble in Stiles' chest, and the silence was broken by something Derek couldn't recall ever hearing before.

_Lay down your head…  
And I'll sing you a lullaby…_

Stiles was singing to him. His voice was light and airy, and if Stiles wasn't already an angel fallen from heaven itself, his voice now completed his divinity.

As if the words had magic powers, Derek felt himself drifting into an expanse of pearly dreamland to the soothing sound of Stiles' voice and the touch of Stiles' hands around him.

xXxXxXxXxXx

_For Pete's sake._ The sheriff cursed internally, as he rested his head against the headrest of his cruiser. It was just after 2:30am. The police force and himself spent all day up until the present moment reviewing one facet of evidence after another in the Charles Schenk case. There were no footprints, no trail to follow. It had been like Charles had been whisked away by some phantom and then torn to shreds in the woods.

_Rest his soul. _Once again, the sheriff was forced to hand the case over to the state representative, who in turn, handed it over to a national team of detectives. _What the hell is up with this town?_

The sheriff sighed and climbed out of the vehicle, entering the darkened house. Putting his gun holster and jacket in their proper places, he trudged up the stairs to the second floor of the house. The night was quiet, and the air was pleasantly cool. There was no wind outside—simply a blissful silence illuminated by the pearly moonlight.

He came to a quiet halt outside of Stiles' door before gently pushing it open. As his son's bed came into view, his heart sank to his knees. Stiles was sleeping serenely beneath a man in extremely bloodied bandages. _That's not just any man._ The sheriff growled. Derek Hale was asleep gently on the chest of his son. Derek Hale. Exonerated criminal. Exonerated yes, but that did not excuse the fact that Derek Hale was not to be trusted. The very fact that he was asleep with his son, in his son's bed, in completely bloodied bandages was… The sheriff didn't know what to think. His eyes fell on the two sleeping figures' hands gently intertwined on the chest of the older man.

The sheriff felt like he had taken a blow to the chest with an iron mallet. His mind spun. In anger, fear, indecision, or confusion, (the sheriff didn't really know which one if not all) Sheriff Stalinski backed away from the door into the darkness of the house.


	19. Chapter 19

Derek's eyes opened to the golden light shining through the window. Judging by the way the sun streamed into the room, Derek assumed that it had to have been late morning if not midday. Stiles' heartbeat echoed behind his head, slow and steady. Derek turned to gaze upon the younger man's sleeping face.

Stiles' neck was slanted slightly against the headboard of his bed, his eyes weighed down by a deep slumber and his mouth hung slightly open. Derek didn't understand where such an angel could have come from, and how misfortunes like the events of last night could have the audacity to target him.

A frown quickly replaced the smile he had awoken with as Derek formulated that last thought—Stiles was in danger. Derek kept putting him in danger, and not just from the threat of the alpha pack. Stiles' life had been on the line the minute Derek had laid eyes on his divine figure.

_If only he would take the bite…_ Derek thought, but immediately retracted it in shame. Stiles was perfect just the way he was. Becoming a werewolf wouldn't change that. Derek would simply have to protect him. That's all there was too it. Stiles was the most important thing in the world now. He always was.

Derek gently braced himself on Stiles' mattress and slowly sat up, grimacing in minor discomfort. Alpha wounds or not, Derek was still healing, and he assumed the gashes on his body were sufficiently closed by now. The movement only allowed Stiles to inhale deeply, but remain asleep and for that Derek was glad. Stiles needed all the rest he could get after the trauma of last night.

Derek stood, yawning in greeting at the sunlight. _Now what…._? Derek looked around the room. _Actually I should get home. _Derek searched the room for his shirt, which he soon remembered was in bloody ribbons on the floor. He chuckled to himself. Then he had an idea.

Derek found Stiles' cell phone on his desk. Unlocking the screen, Derek searched Stiles' contacts, and found Isaac's number.

The phone rang three times.

"Hello?" Isaac's sleepy voice drawled through the phone.

"Isaac, it's Derek." Derek whispered, not wanting to wake Stiles. "I need you to get my Camaro and pick me up at Stiles' house."

"Why are you over there?" Isaac drawled again.

"Long story. I'll explain when you get here." The alpha whispered.

"Why can't you just walk?" Isaac complained.

"I just can't." Derek said, growing agitated.

"Did you two fuck last night?"

"Get down here or I will rip your throat out!" Derek growled louder than he meant to. Stiles stirred in the corner of his eye.

Isaac, hearing the serious command of his alpha, quickly obliged after giving a quick apology and promised to be a block away in ten minutes.

Derek hung up the phone and turned around. "Good morning beautiful."

"What was that about?" Stiles asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Nothing." Derek replied. "Isaac is just coming to pick me up so I don't have to run home in this condition without a shirt."

"Oh right." Stiles agreed. "What time is it anyway?"

Derek looked at Stiles' cell phone. "Almost eleven thirty."

"Huh." Was all Stiles said.

"Stiles," Derek said crossing over to sit next to the newly awakened teenager. "I want to thank you for last night."

"I didn't really do much. Well, I ran away…" Stiles muttered.

"Stop downgrading yourself." Derek commanded. "You patched me up. I'm healing, and it is all because of you."

"I wouldn't say that's doing a lot…" Stiles looked down.

"Stiles." Derek's voice rumbled in his chest and his eyes flashed ruby. "You're perfect. You saved me. You're amazing. And you saved me. All because _you are perfect."_ Derek enunciated the last three words with conviction.

"If you say so." Stiles said.

"I know so."

Then Derek's lips were on Stiles as Derek tried to push his belief of Stiles' heroism through the kiss. Stiles responded, melting warmly into Derek.

_I don't think this could ever get old… _Derek thought as his lips moved with Stiles'. The taste of Stiles' mouth hit him like a train in a flood of ecstasy. Derek's tongue sought his lovers', and for a few moments the two fought for dominance. Stiles eventually gave in, and let Derek take control for a few glorious moments.

Derek's hands moved from the nape of Stiles' neck, down his chest to come to a rest on the boy's hips—his thumbs slipped underneath the waistline of Stiles jeans before he pushed his hands up under the boy's shirt. Stiles whimpered and goose bumps appeared on his flesh where Derek's hands were. Stiles' skin was so soft, like that of a young child. The warmth that radiated from his flesh seemed to soak into Derek's fingertips and travel through his body, welling in his heart.

A car horn blared from outside, causing the two to break the steamy kiss—both were panting.

"Maybe I shouldn't have called Isaac." Derek chuckled.

"You think?" Stiles groaned, reaching down to adjust the erection that tented out prominently from his jeans.

Derek merely laughed, trying to conceal the desire he had to unveil Stiles' member. He struggled to banish the images of a naked Stiles from his head. "Well I'd better go. I need to talk to the others about last night anyway."

"If you have too…" Stiles whined, and pecked Derek on the lips one more time.

Derek returned the kiss before giving Stiles a quick good bye.

"I'll call you tonight." Derek promised, and then leapt out of the window, leaving Stiles alone in the glowing bedroom.

xXxXxXxXxXx

The sheriff sat alone at the kitchen table. _How the hell am I going to talk to him about this? What the hell am I going to say? _His mind reeled. Stiles was… gay? The sheriff had heard his son joke about it before, like when there was the drug break out at the club "Jungle" and Stiles had yet again infiltrated another crime scene. The sheriff had quickly disregarded Stiles' "confession" to being gay on account of his dress code.

Was Stiles gay? _Can I deal with that?_ The sheriff asked himself. He rubbed his temple. In all honesty, the sheriff didn't think so. He wanted grandchildren. He wanted a daughter in law. He _didn't_ want Derek Hale in Stiles' life. He didn't want _any man_ in Stiles' life. What would Stiles' mother think if she were still here?

_God I really wish she was still here…_If ever there was a time when the sheriff needed the support and guidance of his late wife, it was now. He had absolutely no idea how to handle the situation. If Stiles was gay… The sheriff didn't want to think about. He couldn't have a gay son. He _wouldn't_ have a gay son.

There was a thud from upstairs and Stiles trudged into the kitchen, a smile on his face. "Morning dad!" He said cheerily, stopping at the doors of the pantry looking for breakfast.

"Morning." The sheriff replied gruffly, more so at the kitchen table than at his own son. He stepped away from the table and headed for the front door. _I can't do this right now. I need to get out of here._

"Where are you going?" Stiles asked confused.

"Oh um… I'm just running into the station to get some work done." His father replied in monotone.

"Dad… It's Saturday. Since when do you go to work on Saturday?" Stiles turned facing his father's back.

"I have a lot of stuff to go over." The sheriff refused to turn around. "With the Charles case." He added in a lie.

"Oh…" Stiles' voice fell.

"I might be back late tonight." The sheriff said. "Have a good day." With that, he was out the door with keys in hand, leaving Stiles standing in the kitchen completely alone.


	20. Chapter 20

**I would just like to apologize if any of you lovely readers find this chapter a little boring. I need to put a bit more expo in here to make everything flow smoothly and so I don't screw myself by setting up a future writer's block. However, please continue to rate/comment/review/favorite/follow. Thanks!**

** "**He's okay right? Stiles is okay?" Scott's worried voice penetrated the silence in which the pack resided.

Derek had called an emergency meeting at the train depot, informing everyone of the previous night's encounter with the alpha. Derek himself had been healing at a decent rate. He could walk without pain, and he had stopped bleeding.

"Stiles is fine…for now." Derek looked at the ground grimly. "There is no telling if and when they will send another attack for him. They seem intent on utilizing every possible outlet they can to weaken us as a pack."

"We're already pretty damn weak." Peter scoffed. "We're missing two betas, and we have three humans to worry about. I'd say that the alpha pack is at a definite advantage."

"Erika and Boyd made their decision. We can't trust them anymore." Derek said sternly.

"Thank god… the bitch was getting on my nerves." Lydia spat from beside Jackson.

"What because she gave you a run?" Isaac retorted.

"Please." Lydia glared back at him and flipped her strawberry hair over her shoulder.

"Will you two knock it off?" Allison shot at them. "_They_ aren't the problem."

"She's right." Derek agreed. "We need to worry about Stiles right now. I trust Scott filled you in on his _condition?_" Derek looked pointedly at his second in command.

Scott only nodded and looked down. It caused him pain to think of the emotional state he and the entire pack had been putting Stiles in.

"The pussy needs to man the fuck up." Jackson snorted.

Derek was on him in an instant, holding him off the ground by the collar of his shirt. Five other glares of fury stabbed at him as well.

"Watch. What. You. Say." Derek growled, his fangs inches away from Jackson's jugular.

"Alright… I'm sorry." Jackson whimpered.

"Jackson what the fuck is wrong with you?" Allison hissed through clenched teeth.

"I meant…that…" Jackson stuttered.

"Save it." Scott growled, his eyes aglow in amber.

A hand came to rest on Derek's shoulder, who was still prepped to kill Jackson—it was Peter's.

"Derek," he paused. "Maybe we should…_explain_… why Stiles' wellbeing is in the best interest of the whole pack."

Derek looked at his uncle with crimson eyes. Peter nodded at him. In a moment, Jackson fell from Derek's vice-like grip with a _thud_ next to Lydia.

"What do you mean?" Lydia asked Peter with questioning eyes.

"Oh you haven't told them?" Isaac said with a small snicker.

Isaac and Peter were the only ones who had been in on the know about Stiles' newfound importance in Derek's life. It had taken up until a private conversation before the pack meeting for Derek to realize just what exactly Stiles' importance was to him—Derek had found his mate.

"Told us what…?" Scott turned to his alpha.

Derek swallowed.

"Is everything okay?" Allison added.

"Well… Stiles has taken…" Derek searched for the right words. "An important part of my life within the time that I have known him. I have only begun to act upon it just recently."

"So…." Jackson pressed for him to continue.

"I found my mate…" Derek said. "Stiles is my mate." He concluded.

Lydia's jaw dropped, Allison's eyes bulged, Scott nearly fell of his seat, and Jackson let out a laugh.

"You can't be fucking serious." Jackson said, trying to catch a breath.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Derek growled, stepping closer to him menacingly. Jackson immediately shut up.

"Like…. Mate?" Scott whispered hoarsely. "As in… for life mate?!"

"Unless you know of any other meaning to the word 'mate'," Peter retorted.

"Derek… how the hell did you find out about this?" Lydia asked, jaw still agape.

"I've always had some sort of attraction to him. Everything about him drew me in, but it wasn't until recently that I knew just what that meant."

Allison's eyes were still bulged and staring.

"So… does Stiles know about this?" Scott looked at his alpha.

"Well… no… I haven't technically talked to him about being my mate." Derek looked at the ground.

"Doesn't he get a say in this?" Lydia asked.

"Of course he does." Isaac answered her. "But given the way things have been going for Derek and him, I don't see why he wouldn't agree to it."

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa…" Scott threw his hands up, trying to take everything in. "what _exactly_ have you and Stiles been doing?"

Isaac and peter burst out laughing.

"Nothing!" Derek turned beet red. "Not yet anyway…"

"Oh my god! Dude!" Jackson covered his ears.

"It is none of your business anyway." Derek told the pack. "Stiles and I will decide how best to take our relationship. I'm not pushing him because of all he is dealing with. But…" Derek continued. "If Stiles accepts to being my mate, then that means a few things need to happen. One: He is the most important person in the pack—this is because I'm your alpha. When I give a command it is in a beta's nature to follow; Commands don't even need to be spoken verbally. They are felt among the pack."

"But what does this have to do with Stiles being your mate?" Jackson asked.

" Well just as you all can feel my will, you all will have a taste of my affection for Stiles, which means it will be in your nature to protect him, love him, respect him, and also heed his command to an extent."

"So basically we are the two of you guys' personal bitches." Jackson spat out.

"Not exactly. When Stiles asks you to do something, you will _want_ to do it versus feeling _made _to do it."

"Weird." Lydia said.

"Moving on." Derek continued. "Two: You must all respect him now, no more pushing him around, no more taking him for granted. Three: _Love_ him. The alpha's mate should be the most cherished in the pack."

"Well…" Isaac said. "At least it's Stiles."

"Four: Stiles and I would need…" Derek searched for the words.

"They would need to consummate their relationship if they are to be mates." Peter finished for him.

Scott clenched his jaw, and Allison finally spoke.

"Holy shit."

xXxXxXxXxXx

Stiles sat at his desk in his bedroom. He had done nothing all day, he hadn't even showered. His conversation with his dad had upset him, but he brushed it off. His dad must have just been in a lot of stress with the Charles case. After all, cases like that not only put a lot of stress on his father in the sense of his career, but his father always felt morally obligated to solve whatever case he would handle and would take it personally if the Beacon Hills Police Department failed to do so. _That must be it. That's why he was upset this morning. _

Stiles turned his focus back to his computer, where he continued to look at random YouTube videos as he had done all day. Derek still hadn't called like he said he was going to, and that is really what Stiles wanted. However, in an effort to prove he wasn't needy, he refused to contact him until Derek made the first move. Stiles looked at the clock.

_9:30pm_.

Picking up his cell phone, Stiles decided he would call Scott. In all honesty, Stiles missed spending time with his best friend. He missed the hours of video games, or getting late night pancakes at IHOP, or going bowling. Of course Allison complicated things, but Stiles had indeed forgiven Scott for that. It was at least worth a shot.

Dialing the number, Stiles put the phone to his ear—the line rang.

"Hello? Stiles?" Scott picked up on the third ring.

"Hey man… What's up?" Stiles smiled at the sound of his best friend's voice.

"Oh not too much I—Stop it!—am just hanging out with Allison—no don't do that!—while my mom is at work." Allison's giggle sounded in the background from Scott's room. "Are you alright? Did you need something?"

Stiles' excitement faltered. There went any chance he had of seeing his best friend. Stiles pushed the reluctant thought out of his head. "Oh…umm… yeah… I'm fine. Just bored you know. Haha." Stiles forced the chuckle out.

"Yeah I gotchu." Scott said, giggling. He was obviously too distracted for this. "But you're okay though right? I don't need to come over?"

"Oh… no… no it's cool. I'll see you later."

"Yea sure—oh c'mon Allison not while I'm on the phone—I'll talk to you later buddy!"

There was no goodbye. The line just ended. Stiles sighed and dropped the phone onto his desk. He put his face in his hands.

_Here we go again… _Stiles thought as the too-familiar sadness seep into his stomach like ooze. Stiles picked up his phone and began dialing. Several rings sounded in his ear.

"This is Sheriff Stalinski." His father's gruff voice came through.

"Hey dad… It's Stiles. Are you coming home soon?" Stiles asked, his voice weak.

"Oh… Hey. Um… probably not. I'm really deep in work over here. You shouldn't stay up for me." His father's voice replied.

"Alright." Stiles didn't even try to put emotion into his response. "Love you."

"Yeah." Sheriff Stalinski replied. "G'night."

The line ended.

Stiles looked toward the box on his desk. _Don't do it. Don't do it. _Stiles begged with himself, yet as hard as he begged, his hand still gravitated toward the box. _Go ahead. Crying over it won't help. You know that. The only way is to bleed it out. It's right there. Just do it._ The dark voice echoed through his head. _Do it. Don't do it. Do it. Don't do it._

Stiles was at war with himself—he knew he can't keep doing this to himself, but nothing he did ever gave him as much relief as bleeding. Tears never washed the pain away. His hand settled on the lid of the box.

_Tap Tap tap._

Stiles turned to look at the window, only to find Derek peering in at him—a solemn look in his eye. Stiles sighed, and went to open the window.

"You were about to do it again, weren't you?" Derek said. There was no anger in his voice. No anger, no pain, no disappointment…the only thing in Derek's voice was sorrow.

Stiles looked down, saying nothing, but only nodded in shame. Then Derek's arms were around him, radiating warmth. "I'm so sorry." Derek whispered to Stiles. "I wish I could get rid of it all for you." Derek continued. "You don't deserve all of this."

"How do you know?" Stiles muttered into his chest.

"Because when I look at you, I see a boy. I see a boy who is hurting, who has the world on his shoulders and no one to help him with the burden. I see a boy who thinks so little of himself, that he can't see just how _perfect_ he really is—to everyone. Stiles, your heart is the biggest, warmest heart on the face of this planet. No one can hate you, no one can be angry at you. You are the kind of person to whom people just gravitate."

"I'm not perfect. I'll never be." Stiles whispered.

"You are to me." Derek squeezed him tighter.

There they stood for a few moments more, before Derek dropped his arms and walked to Stiles' bed, sitting down upon it. He kicked off his shoes.

"Are you staying tonight?" Stiles looked up from the floor, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"If that's okay." Derek replied.

"Of course." Stiles gave a faint smile.

"C'mere." Derek beckoned Stiles to come to him.

Stiles did as he was told, and as soon as he was in Derek's reach, Derek wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into his lap.

"I want to talk to you about something." Derek whispered.

Stiles immediately tensed, prepared for the worst. "Okay…"

"Don't worry silly it's nothing bad." Derek laughed. "Maybe a little awkward… but…"

Stiles relaxed a little. "What is it?"

"Well…"Derek hesitated, looking for the right words to begin with. "When I met you, I knew there was something different about you. I felt drawn to you and I had no idea why. I felt it when you saved me from Kate's bullet. I felt it when we were in the pool together. I felt it when Matt almost killed us at the station, and you were on top of me."

"Go on…" Stiles clutched closer into Derek's chest.

"Well, I had no idea what the hell it was about you that demanded my attention. I had no idea at all Stiles…until last week. When I found out what you have been doing to yourself, I went berserk. When I kissed you, it was the best moment in my life. When I held you that first night…"

"So…." Stiles waited for him to continue.

"Well… You know how I'm a werewolf?"

"Really? No! I had no fucking idea!" Stiles mocked.

"Shut up smart ass." Derek squeezed him affectionately. "Well… that side of me is sometimes more dominant than the human side of me…and well… it's demanded that I have a mate… and I think it's chosen."

"It being…"

"My werewolf half."

"Uh huh… So mate as in…. mate? Like for life mate?" Stiles looked up at Derek.

"That's what I'm trying to say yes."

"Oh… who is it?" Stiles looked down again.

"Oh for fuck's sake." Derek cupped Stiles face in his hands. "My wolf has chosen you. I have chosen you. _You_, Stiles are my mate… if you accept to be so that is." Derek looked into Stiles' deep-pool eyes for an answer.

"You're serious?" Stiles asked, as if he hadn't heard Derek right.

"I'm one hundred thousand percent serious." Derek replied.

"But… Don't you want someone more… I don't know… smarter, stronger, fiercer… _Werewolf?_"

"No. You, Stiles, are what I want. No one else makes me feel the way you do."

Stiles looked into his eyes, and saw not a shred of doubt. "If you are sure you want me."

"I've never been more sure about anything in my life." Derek said firmly.

"Then yes." Stiles smiled. "I'll be your mate."

Derek said nothing but smiled bigger than anything Stiles had ever seen. He pulled Stiles in for a strong kiss. Derek pulled Stiles tight against him. Stiles responded to the kiss, throwing himself into it as much as he could.

Moments passed, and the two broke apart, panting.

"I love you Stiles." Derek said with a smile.

"I love you Derek." Stiles smiled back.

Derek embraced his mate once more, feeling more joy in his heart than he had ever had before.

**Sorry this took so long to get up and I'm sorry for how long it is. I know there wasn't as much erotic Sterek in here as you all want, but the time will come I promise. Stay tuned!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Why hello you beautiful human beings! I got SO many wonderful reviews off of last chapter, and I appreciate that you all took the time to let me know your thoughts on this story. In one review however, I was asked to put this story on wattpad. Would someone please explain to me what wattpad is? Anyways… on to chapter 21!**

Stiles continued to gaze into the eyes of his boyfriend…well, mate. There was so much depth in those hazel pools of beauty, so much about Derek that Stiles didn't yet understand, and he hoped that the chance to learn to do so would be his.

The lovely hazel eyes flashed briefly, a new emotion swirling into their depths.

"Stiles, would you stay with me tonight?" Derek whispered.

"I thought that was the plan?" Stiles corrected. "I mean… isn't that why you're here?"

"Well... I was thinking you could stay with me…maybe at my place? I mean, it is Saturday after all…but it was just a thought." Derek looked down.

"You mean…at like you're house?" Stiles questioned. "Isn't it all burnt down and everything."

"Well, I have been rebuilding it…" Derek told him. "The bedroom is already done, it would be quiet, and secluded…"

Stiles smiled. "I'd like that. But what about my dad? He'll freak if he sees my jeep is gone."

"I drove in the Camaro. I'll drive you home in the morning too." Derek gave him what should have been puppy-dog eyes, but no puppy Stiles knew of had the right to be so damn sexy.

"Okay…" His smile got bigger. "Let's go." Stiles leapt off of Derek's lap, and busied himself about the room, shoving random things like deodorant, pajama pants, a baggy t-shirt, and socks into his now empty lacrosse bag. "Ready." He stood in front of Derek who was just finishing up the lacing of his shoes.

"Alright. Let's go then." Derek smiled, and headed for the window.

"Ummm… Derek? We can use the front door you know. Dad's not home." Stiles chuckled.

"Right."

They both treaded downstairs and out the front door. Stiles turned to lock the door, and took Derek's hand immediately after the thick piece of wood was shut tight and secure.

"C'mon beautiful, I'm parked over here." Derek led him down the walk.

_There it is again…_Stiles thought to himself._ He calls me beautiful._ Right in that moment, with his hand ensconced securely in Derek's, Stiles felt a smile stretch on his lips and a warm blush creeps into his cheeks.

"Are you alright?" Derek turned his head towards his mate. "You're heart rate just picked up."

"Oh…I'm just thinking." Stiles said.

They were now climbing into the black Camaro.

"Of what?" Derek said as he turned the key and the engine roared to life.

"Stuff." Stiles tried to hide his smile.

"You know Stiles, as my mate you really shouldn't keep secrets from me. Not anymore." Derek said, loving the way the word "Mate" felt on his tongue when he applied it to the boy next to him.

"I'm just thinking about how you call me beautiful all of the time." Stiles looked pointedly at Derek. "I'm not sure about it."

"Why not? Because it's the truth?" Derek's voice grew stern.

"Well not only that… but no one's ever called me beautiful before." Stiles' gaze faltered.

"Then let that be my job. Not only am I calling you beautiful, but know that it is always one hundred percent true."

"Okay…" Stiles said to the floor of the Camaro, then turned to look out the window. He felt Derek's hand take his own on top of the gear shift, and then he felt the squeeze of assurance from the stronger man. _Maybe he _does_ mean it…_ Stiles thought, calculating the possibility that he was as beautiful as Derek said he was.

Moments turned into minutes of blissful and easy silence as they sped through the night. The clock on the dashboard read 10:30pm by the time trees started passing the tinted windows of the Camaro, signifying the close proximity of Derek's house.

Derek parked the Camaro out front of the blackened house, and told Stiles to stay put. He did as he was told. In seconds, Stiles heard the trunk open and close, and then his door was opened to reveal Derek holding the lacrosse bag of his belongings over his shoulder. His free hand was extended towards Stiles, ready to help him out of the vehicle.

"So kind of you." Stiles mocked him, taking his hand as he stepped form he car.

"I told you," Derek shrugged. "I want to treat you right."

Stiles recalled the night in his room, when things had become a little steamy. Derek refused to go further because he wanted to 'treat me right'. This brought a smile to his lips for the hundredth time in the past hour.

The two proceeded inside what seemed like a still-very-burnt-out house. Nothing seemed to have changed from the last time Stiles had seen the place. Hadn't Derek said he was rebuilding it?

"C'mon, my room is upstairs." Derek said, leading Stiles up the squeaking steps, and to the left of the loft.

Stiles noted how indeed, the blackened floorboards had begun being replaced along the floor with new (what looked like, oak) ones. Through the door at the end of the loft, Stiles gasped as he took in the transformed room. Derek had seemingly rebuilt the walls of his bedroom, and painted them a misty gray which led to down to white baseboards and lush, silver carpet speckled in black. On the gray walls were decadent works of art, displaying misty mountains, silent oceans, and of course, the moon. Each was captured in the breathtaking monotone color scheme. The room was a glow with soft light which shone from overhead hanging fixtures made of black stained glass. At the headwall, Derek's bed sat low on the ground in a sleek blackwood frame, which did nothing to conceal the size of the gigantean mattress, the sheets were made up nicely, finished off with a silver comforter which seemed to shimmer. Both sides of the bed were occupied by two night stands of the same black wood. On the wall behind them, hung a rather large flat screen T.V. which was strategically placed so Derek could watch it while in bed.

"What do you think?" Derek whispered.

"It's amazing!" Stiles exclaimed.

"I'm glad you like it." Derek smiled, dropping Stiles' lacrosse bag form his shoulder. "Would you like to get dressed for bed, and then we could maybe watch a movie or something?"

"Sounds good to me." Stiles stooped to pick up his bag. "Is there a bathroom in here?" Stiles asked, glancing at the two doors opposite each other in the room.

"It's that door right there," Derek pointed to the door on the left.

"Thank you!" Stiles said, and scurried into the bathroom.

Once inside, Stiles took in the décor of Derek's bathroom. The same monotone color scheme had been applied, as he stood on black tile and peered into a large oval mirror with the same black light fixtures. The sink was in and of itself a piece of art. The faucet was stainless steel that was basically a short yet artistic pipe that protruded slightly from the wall under the mirror. It pointed downwards into a black marble bowl, flecked with white quartz. Two spheres of the same marble were placed on either side of the faucet spout, and Stiles assumed they were the hot and cold nobs. To the left was a large shelf stocked with select vials of liquids that looked expensive; there was a large black box next to it that Stiles only assumed was a hamper, and to the right was a shower. The cubical was blocked off by frosted glass. _Boy, he sure didn't spare any detail,_ he thought to himself. Stiles dumped the contents of what he brought on the floor, stripping from his jeans; he pulled on his soft pajama pants and then the baggy old t-shirt with a batman logo on it. It was a gift from his mother, and he couldn't bear the thought of giving it away, regardless of how many holes were in it and how the fabric was so worn you could practically see through it.

Now dressed for the night, he turned to the ornate sink and then immediately turned back to the pile of his crap on the floor. Rummaging through it, he cursed lightly under his breath. He couldn't find his toothbrush, and it wasn't until a split second later he remembered he hadn't gone to his bathroom back home to retrieve it.

_Fuck._ Stiles thought. _I'm so going to have morning breath._ He looked around frantically, and then settled on his solution.

Minutes later, he was back in the bedroom to find Derek sitting on the edge of his bed twiddling his thumbs. He looked up and smiled.

"Batman?" Derek asked with a chuckle.

"It was a gift from my mom." Stiles said pointedly.

"Well, I think you look cute." He smiled again.

Stiles only blushed.

"I'll be right back." Derek said, and he disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Stiles took Derek's place sitting on the bed, relishing the feel of what he now found to be satin on his fingers. He prepared to wait.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek looked at himself in the mirror, his heart about to pound a hole through his chest. _Why am I so nervous?_ He asked himself. Derek settled on the fact that it was because Stiles was the first person to see his bedroom, and even more so, to sleep there. Then there was the fact that Stiles had accepted to be his mate. Derek remembered how his heart had soared when he heard the acceptance flutter from Stiles' mouth. It was as if the angels had come down from heaven and encircled him in harmony.

_But…it's not official yet…_ Derek saw the blush on his cheeks when the thought crossed his mind. _Is that why I asked him to stay here tonight? _Derek hadn't even thought about that when the idea to stay here crept into his head. _Oh god… what if that's what he wants? What if I hurt him? What if he doesn't want to? What if I ruin it for him? What if…? What if…? What if…?_

Derek's head spun and he steadied himself by gripping the black marble of the sink. He breathed through his nose. _Just let Stiles take things where he wants._ Derek nodded in affirmation at himself in the mirror.

Letting go of the sink, Derek gripped the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head and depositing it into the hamper by the shelf of his cologne. He then turned to the shelf and pulled his toothbrush from its holder. There was an ever-so-faint warmth radiating form the handle. He stroked the bristles with his index finger. _They're wet…_ Derek thought to himself. _He brushed his teeth with my toothbrush. _For some odd reason, a smile blossomed on his lips. It was weird how an action of such small significance could hold so much meaning for him. The toothbrush was one of the most intimate facets of daily ritual—it was a general rule to use your own.

Derek was not angry; not in the least. _Stiles brushed _his _teeth with _my _toothbrush._ He smiled wider. Stiles had become one with his daily rituals.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Stiles fidgeted nervously with the cuff of his cotton pajama pants until he heard the click of the bathroom door. When Stiles looked up, his jaw dropped.

There Derek stood in all his glory with no shirt—and no jeans. The only garment on his body was a pair of short, black briefs that hugged him perfectly in _every_ way.

_Emphasis on the 'every'_.Stiles thought tohimself_. _He tried in vain to keep his eyes from trailing lower than Derek's face.

"Ready?" Derek asked serenely.

"For what?" Stiles could not concentrate.

"Bed and the movie?" Derek replied lightly.

"Oh. Yeah. Movie. Right." Stiles sputtered out. "Um… Here, It's your bed. You should get in first. He stood up and waited for Derek to climb in. Derek stopped next to Stiles, and pressed the softest of kisses onto his forehead. Stiles inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes, feeling Derek's arms encircle him.

Derek radiated warmth, and Stiles melted into the embrace while breathing in Derek's musky skin.

"I love you Stiles." Derek whispered.

"I love you back." Stiles replied.

Stiles' fingers began lightly tracing the swirls on Derek's tattoo, evoking shivers from the man. Derek squeezed him tighter as Stiles continued to explore the flesh of Derek's back, relishing each and every curve of muscle, each smooth plane of skin. Derek was perfect.

"You can't imagine how that feels." Derek whispered.

Stiles smiled into his chest.

Derek pulled away, only to tilt Stiles' head back so he could kiss him. Derek's tongue sought Stiles', and Stiles allowed Derek to do so. Derek reveled in the fresh taste of Stiles' mouth, though it was still a bit cool from when he brushed his teeth. His senses were undeniably consumed in all that was Stiles.

Stiles felt Derek's hands slide lower and lower on his back, pausing to rest at the dimpled small of his waist. Derek gripped the shirt, and pulled it gently up, breaking the kiss, and bringing the shirt off of Stiles' body. Stiles froze, being suddenly exposed in the soft light of the room to his lover. He immediately crossed his arms tightly over his chest and looked down.

"Hey…" Derek whispered. "Don't hide yourself from me. You never have to hide from me. Ever."

Stiles looked into Derek's eyes, his own having filled with doubt and insecurity. He bit his lip.

Derek took Stiles' wrists gently in his hands and pulled his arms from their secure position. Stiles felt Derek's eyes trail up and down his torso, and he blushed with every movement.

"Stiles… You are so…"

"I know…" Shame crept back into his voice.

"Perfect…" Derek finished.

Stiles looked at him—disbelief in his eyes.

"I mean it. You're beautiful." Derek did not give Stiles a chance to respond. He wrapped his arms around the smaller boy's waist, and lifted him up.

Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek's waist, letting Derek support him—though he did it with ease. Stiles' lips met Derek's again in a feverishly needy kiss, and Derek returned the urgency. Stiles felt Derek pull him tighter.

After a few moments of being suspended in the air, Derek turned them both to the bed without breaking the kiss and gently lay Stiles down on his back while Derek climbed on top of him. In the midst of the kiss, Stiles ran his hands into the hair on the back of Derek's head, securely fastening Derek in the kiss. Derek slid his hand down Stiles' bare torso with the touch of a feather, causing goose bumps to erupt where his fingers touched. His hand continued to run down Stiles' hip, to the nape of his knee, and back up. Stiles groaned in response.

Being touched in such a way was completely foreign to Stiles, but with every move that Derek made, every caress, Stiles knew that love motivated it all. He ran his hands down Derek's broad shoulders and his toned back, causing Derek to growl in pleasure.

Derek began to rub himself onto Stiles, who in turn began moaning quietly as Derek's warm body pressed against him. Stiles could feel Derek's hard member through the thin fabrics separating their bodies, and his own body immediately responded, sending blood flow to his own.

Derek's kiss began to grow urgent, and his hands grabbed at every part of Stiles they could, pulling him closer with each movement. Stiles relished the feel of Derek on top of him. The way Derek groped at him made him feel needed, and it left him wishing Derek could hold him tighter still.

Stiles squeezed himself further into Derek's arms, hoping to convey his desire to be held tighter without words. Derek quickly obliged and pulled him so close, breathing became a challenge—though Stiles minded not a bit.

The heated kiss ended, yet Derek's lips did not leave Stiles' flesh. They trailed down his neck and onto his collar bone. Kissing gently, Derek stroked the skin of his lover, reveling in the taste. As he had discovered before, Derek noted how the taste of Stiles was the only thing which was more intoxicating than his scent.

Furthering his exploration, Derek slid his tongue across Stiles' nipple, before nibbling gently on it with his teeth, evoking a whimper from his lover. Stiles' body was awash in shivers and uncontrollable tremors of pleasure. The way Derek felt—his hands, his hot breath, his mouth—Stiles had elevated to an ecstasy. He felt another gentle nip before Derek trailed his tongue across his chest, coming to a rest on the other nipple. Teasing it as he did the other, Derek now let growls of contentment out freely, and Stiles joined him with his whimpers.

After a few moments, Stiles felt an intense blush color his cheeks as Derek continued his way down Stiles' stomach, gently lapping at the happy trail of brown hair beneath his belly button. Stiles realized where Derek's destination was when he felt Derek's fingers slide underneath the elastic of his pajamas and briefs. Derek looked up into the eyes of his lover for approval. Stiles, cheeks now flushed with desire, lust, nervousness, and a cocktail of other emotions, gave the slightest of nods.

The fabric gently slid down his hips, around his knees, and off the heels of his bare feet. He was completely exposed and his masculinity stood tall and firm in the Derek's presence. Stiles did not look at Derek, for fear of what negative emotion he might see. His heart pounded in his chest, and despite the sweat breaking out across his chest, he shivered.

"Hey…Hey…" Derek whispered, climbing back on top of Stiles, nuzzling his cheek with his nose. "Don't be ashamed babe. You're beautiful."

Stiles opened his eyes slightly, peering into the hazel pools of his lover's own eyes, and there he saw nothing but sincerity and love. He nodded, and Derek slid back down, bringing his lips to gently suck at the inside of Stiles' thigh where his scent was richest. That scent—the rainy aroma that was Stiles—engulfed Derek, driving his inner wolf wild with desire. Derek quickly obliged.

Stiles let a loud moan out as he felt Derek's mouth take him in. Words could not describe the sensations jolting through every limb of his body at the warm feeling. Derek sucked lightly at the head of Stiles' member, causing Stiles to jerk uncontrollably this way and that.

Stiles had definitely never been touched this way before, and the fact that Derek was the one doing it to him brought a smile to his lips, which was quickly replace by another moan as Derek slid his tongue up and down Stiles' shaft. Stiles could barely catch a breath, and what little oxygen he had was immediately lost as Derek took the whole of Stiles' member into his mouth. Stiles could feel the back of Derek's throat which caused him to throw his head back against the soft mattress. Stiles was quickly losing control and he could feel himself preparing to come.

Sensing this, Derek quickly released Stiles' member and kissed his way back up Stiles' stomach. Once Derek was in reach, Stiles wrapped his arms around his neck, drawing Derek in for a fierce kiss. Stiles could taste a bit of himself in Derek's mouth and he groaned in pleasure, soon accompanied by Derek's rumble of a growl.

Stiles slid his hands down Derek's back, slowly, bringing more throaty growls from his lover, and paused at the band of Derek's black briefs before sliding them down his toned rear. Derek helped him by breaking the kiss and slid them completely off, before resuming his position on top of his mate, kissing him passionately.

Derek soon started making his way down Stiles' chest again, planting kisses all along the way and giving a gentle lick to his member again. But this time, Derek continued further, and lifted Stiles' legs onto his shoulders.

Stiles' moan was anything but quiet as he felt Derek's warm tongue circle his entrance, before sliding in. Shivers once again began coursing through his body, and Stiles was now moaning and whimpering in pleasure with consistency. Moments caught in this ecstasy passed, and Derek continued his work.

Coming up for breath, Derek crawled to eye level with his mate, his desire evident in his eyes. Stiles, recalled that night when Derek had touched him as he had just a moment ago. Stiles' wish stood true—he wanted to be connected to Derek in a way he had never been before. He nodded.

Derek smiled and reached into the drawer of his nightstand withdrawing a clear liquid Stiles assumed was lubricant. Dousing himself in the fluid, Derek then clasped the bottle shut with a _click_ and tossed it aside. He hitched Stiles' legs around his hips and gently crawled forward.

"Are you sure?" Derek whispered into Stiles' ear. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I love you." was Stiles' only response.

Stiles felt the head of Derek's masculinity poised at his puckered entrance. Then, ever so slowly, he felt Derek push in with small gentle thrusts. Stiles felt himself stretch open, and then Derek gave a slightly too big thrust. Stiles' head threw back and he let out a cry of pain. Derek squeezed him in his arms and ceased all movement.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, fearing the distress of his mate.

"I'm alright…" Stiles huffed. "Just need a sec."

Derek waited obediently, the head of his member in Stiles' tight entrance. Stiles let himself grow used to the large size of Derek's member, and when he felt comfortable, he nodded for Derek to continue. Derek obliged, this time taking extra care while slowly sliding in.

Every so often Derek would pause, letting Stiles grow accustomed to his size, before pushing further in. In moments, Derek's entire length was inside his mate. Stiles pulled Derek to him in a feverish kiss, and throwing as much passion into it as he could. He wrapped his arms around Derek so securely, as he did not want Derek's flesh to be separated from him in any way. He felt Derek inside of him, and realized that was the connection he had desired.

For a few moments, that was where they stayed, relishing the feel of the connection. Then Derek began to pull out, only to thrust back inside Stiles slowly, and again repeating the process. His movements began to grow faster and needier. Derek's throaty growls turned into grunts and moans of pleasure which accompanied Stiles' whimpers. They gripped at each other, not wanting to be separated as Derek's movements grew into a hastened rhythm. Then, so suddenly, Derek slid in just right, rubbing against Stiles' prostate. Stiles let out a full on cry, though this time it was in pleasure and not in pain as shivers and goose bumps tore through his entire body. Derek hit it again and again, and Stiles was a trembling mass of nerves and whimpers in his arms. Derek pressed his lips against Stiles' as he continued to enter him repeatedly.

This continued for an immeasurable amount of pleasurable time. Moments turned to minutes, and the moans of the two sounded throughout the room as they moved in synchronization.

Derek squeezed his arms around Stiles' back as he kissed him, and Stiles' arms around Derek's neck did the same. Stiles' legs wrapped tighter around Derek's waist. Stiles moaned loudly again as Derek slid past the spot inside him which sent his nerves into an electrical mess.

Without warning Stiles' moans grew louder.

"Oh God Derek! Derek! I think I'm….!" Stiles' clamped his teeth onto the flesh of Derek's shoulder as he felt his orgasm tremor through his body, hands-free. Stiles let go in long spurts that shot between the flesh of their two chests. Derek's pace increased as did his growls and Stiles continued to whimper, still caught amidst the intensity of his orgasm.

Stiles could still feel Derek inside of him, pounding away. Derek was the only thing on Stiles' mind, and he couldn't help but feel just how _right_ being with Derek this way felt. That's all that Stiles' world held. He felt Derek move within him…Derek… Derek… Derek…

He squeezed tighter, clutching himself to Derek's warm sweaty body as tightly as he could. Derek growled in his ear over and over again.

"Stiles…"Derek panted through clenched teeth. "Stiles… I think… I'm…I'm…!"

"Let it go…" Stiles whispered into his mate's ear.

Derek let out one final growl as he thrust his entire length into his lover, and Stiles felt a rush of warmth, followed by another, and another. This continued for seven or eight long spurts as he felt Derek splash inside him. The warmth from Derek's seed seemed to radiate inside him as the ripples of a stone would as it is tossed into the ocean. Derek collapsed onto his mate panting and sweaty. Stiles squeezed him close.

"I love you Derek. I love you Derek. I love you Derek." He whispered over and over again into the werewolf's ear.

There the two stayed, sweaty and panting in the aftermath of their loving ecstasy. Silence filled the room save for the sound of ragged breathing and a single heartbeat. Stiles couldn't tell if it was his own or Derek's, but only one beat resonated between the chests of the two. Stiles couldn't help but smile at the odd phenomenon, and then soon realized that it was only fitting. He had been connected to Derek in a way that no one could take away from them. He and Derek were one. They were mates. Forever

_This is what it feels like._ Stiles thought to himself. _This is what it feels like to be held—to be loved. _

Derek picked himself up from Stiles, and looked deep into his eyes. "I love you back." He smiled, and pulled back the covers on the bed.

In moments Stiles was back in his arms underneath the satin sheets. All sweat gone. Their breathing had quieted. The two soon slumbered in the loving embraces of each other. The only sound within the quiet room was their single heartbeat.

**I'm so sorry this chapter is soooo long! But I figured you all would kill me if I hadn't finished it. Thanks for reading and don't forget to comment/review/follow/favorite! Love you all! See you soon!**


	22. Chapter 22

**I apologize for the suckiness that you are all about to read in this chapter. I am suffering from quite a big spell of writer's block, but if I don't get this out on paper, then it will never come out. So anyway, here goes nothing. **

Derek had been awake for a few hours now, but he hadn't moved for fear that everything the past twenty four hours held was an illusion. Stiles slept peacefully on the pillow next to him; their two bodies being separated only by a few mere inches.

Derek couldn't understand—of the many times he had gazed upon the perfect face before him, not once was he ever able to get over the fact that such beauty existed within the cold world. As Stiles lay there, he seemed to be aglow basking Derek in his warmth.

At some point during their loving slumber the two had grown apart, and Derek wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around the warm body of his mate. He refrained from this for fear of waking Stiles—so there Derek lay, content enough to simply gaze on as Stiles inhaled and exhaled. Eventually, his urge to be in physical contact with Stiles grew to be too much, and Derek raised a hesitant hand to gently stroke the features of the younger man's serene face.

Derek's index finger lightly traced the perfect curve of Stiles' eyebrow. The backs of his fingers caressed the silken porcelain of Stiles' cheek. Stiles' soft lips, now being gently stroked by Derek's thumb, put even the most perfect of rose petals to shame. Derek smiled to himself. What he would give to do this every morning for the rest of forever.

Stiles stirred at the last of Derek's touches, gently pressing his cheek into the warmth of Derek's palm. Derek in turn gently moved forward and pressed a light kiss on Stiles' forehead. At the feather-light touch, Stiles' eyelashes brushed against Derek's chin as his eyes fluttered open. Stiles smiled and clutched closer.

"I didn't mean to wake you." Derek said softly.

"Don't worry about it," Stiles chuckled into his chest. "That's actually an amazing way to wake up in the morning."

"Then I'll make sure to do that every morning." Derek smiled, and wrapped his arms around Stiles' back.

"I'll hold you to that." Stiles said.

Derek growled at him in a gentle manner, pulling him closer.

"So…..how about that movie last night?" Stiles laughed softly.

"I think that's the best one I've ever seen." Derek chuckled back at him, playing along.

"Is there a sequel?" Stiles pressed.

"I'm sure the directors have something in mind." Derek heard the smile in his own voice as he felt Stiles' arousal next to his body.

"But in all honesty," Stiles said, seriousness replacing the light overtone in his voice. "Does that make it official?"

"We're mates for life." Derek concluded, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"Good." Stiles smiled into Derek's chest.

Then, before Derek could react, the boy wiggled out of his arms and threw the blankets off of them both before he leapt out of the satin sheets. Derek had to reel his wolf in at the sight of the naked boy before him.

"Well I need a shower." Stiles said with a gleam in his eye. "Would you like to see if any ideas for a sequel come to mind?"

Derek didn't even answer. He sprung out of the bed and chased Stiles into the bathroom after giving his ass a light pinch that made him squeal.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek had walked Stiles to the front door, as the Sheriff's cruiser (much to the couple's surprise) was not in the driveway.

"Do you really have to go?" Derek gave him that inappropriately sexy puppy face.

"Yeah…" Stiles frowned and nuzzled himself into Derek's arms. "I've got some homework to do, and I'm sure you have things to do to."

"You're on the top of that list." Derek chuckled lightly.

Stiles laughed and the sound was like an angelic choir to Derek's ears. "I'm sure." Then he turned to the door to unlock it, and opened once the bolt clicked out of place.

The instant the door opened, Stiles felt himself yanked ferociously back by Derek, who's claws and fangs protruded in a flash.

"Stay here." Derek growled, and then entered the house.

"Derek, wait!" Stiles cried after him. "What is it?! What's wrong?!"

Derek didn't listen, for he was already up the stairs of the house, leaving Stiles alone on the porch. Stiles knew he should do the smart thing and wait where he was, but like every dumbass in every single horror movie ever, he proceeded inside.

There were no sounds of movement from upstairs, and Stiles strained his ears to hear the movements of his mate. He couldn't make much out due to his heartbeat pounding in his ears, fearing for Derek's safety. He lifted his foot to take the first step to the second floor.

"Stiles." Derek's rough voice caused Stiles to jump two feet in the air with a rather loud curse.

"Fucking hell Der, you scared the shit outta me!" Stiles yelled.

"Stiles, someone was in your room…and your father's…" Derek growled, stepping down the stairs towards the still frightened Stiles.

"What?" Stiles croaked. "Who?"

"The woman from the forest." Derek said. "She's been here, looking for you. But this time, she wasn't alone."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like." Derek growled, grabbing for Stiles' hands. "There were two scents that I didn't recognize along with hers."

"Do they have my dad? Is that why his cruiser isn't here?" Stiles gasped, suddenly fearing for the sake of his father.

"No, I don't think so." Derek said, his words bringing visible relief to Stiles' features. "His scent is rather faint, so I don't think he has been here for the last twenty four hours or so…"

"Since he left for the station…" Stiles added. "What if they have him…?"

"Hey…hey…I'm sure he's fine." Derek said, rubbing Stiles' shoulders. "He's the sheriff; he can take care of himself."

"I hope so…" Stiles choked.

"You're my priority right now…" Derek continued.

"But we don't know where he's at!" Stiles exclaimed. "He's all I have left!"

"I know…" Derek rubbed his shoulders again. "But I don't think they're after him."

"How can you be sure?" Stiles looked into the still ruby eyes.

"I found this on your pillow…" Derek growled, before holding a piece of paper out for Stiles to see.

Stiles found himself looking into a simple spiral. "Derek… What does it mean?"

"They're angry Stiles." Derek whispered, and for once Stiles saw a glint of fear in his eyes. "They're out for blood…You're blood."

**This chapter is literally a pile of shit, and I'm so sorry I put all of you through it. Please don't hate me too badly, I promise I'll fix it next chapter!**


	23. Chapter 23

**To those of you still reading this train wreck, I thank you all for the bottom of my heart. I'm so sorry for all of the grammar mistakes, and I will try to make them better. However, I really appreciate all of the feedback I get from you all so please continue to review/rate/comment/follow/favorite! Love you!**

***Warning* If uncomfortable with insinuated non-consensual sex, do not read.**

This week…this damn week…had been so stressful that Stiles was about to rip shit off of the walls and beat people up. After Derek had found the scents in Stiles' room, he hadn't let the teenager be alone for a single minute. When Stiles found himself being looked out for by Derek, then he didn't mind as much. But when Derek was busy, or off scouring the woods for whatever he could find on the alpha pack, he had Isaac, Scott, and/or fucking Jackson babysit him.

Not only did Stiles never get a moment to himself, but on top of everything else, his father was still barely around. He left early in the mornings before Stiles woke up, and wouldn't come home until after Stiles was already in bed. When Stiles would call, the sheriff dodged every question with irritability. When Stiles would bring him dinner, the officer manning the front desk would never let him back to see the sheriff. The excuse was usually "Stiles, your father is swamped with meetings with State Detectives and the FBI, but I'll make sure he gets this."

Stiles, now finishing this overcast Thursday at school, rested his head against the steering wheel of his jeep which now sat parked in the driveway of his home.

"Scott, don't you have a date with Allison or something? You really don't have to watch me this afternoon." The statement shocked Stiles as if lulled from his mouth. A week ago he would have given anything for some time with his best friend, yet when it was forced upon him, it was different—strained. Stiles could also tell that Scott was just about as fed up with it as he was.

"I really don't mind hanging out with you." Scott yawned. "Besides, you know what Derek would do to me if I left you alone?"

"Yeah yeah… rip your throat out with his teeth blah blah blah he always says that." Stiles rolled his eyes. "C'mon then, I'll make us some food."

Moments later, the boys were in the kitchen of the house, bags thrown on the floor and a frying pan sizzling on the stove. Stiles was making grilled-cheese sandwiches.

"So…" Scott began. "Are you and Derek…y'know…"

"Mates?" Stiles gulped, not turning from the stove because of the ruby color now flushing his cheeks.

"Yeah… that." Scott cleared his throat.

"Um…I guess so…yeah…at least…that's what he told me." Stiles flipped the sandwich, revealing a perfectly golden piece of bread.

"Ah…cool." Scott tapped his fingers on the countertop.

"Is that alright with you? I mean…we never really talked… about… well you know… me being…. Like…" Stiles hand shook the spatula with his nerves.

"Gay?" Scott finished for him.

Stiles nodded.

"Oh dude! Of course man! You're my best friend!" Scott smiled. "Nothin' would change that!"

"Thanks Scott." Stiles turned and smiled widely at his best friend.

Scott walked over to Stiles and wrapped him in a big hug. "Now I want you tell me if he hurts you or anything… I'll kick his ass."

"I'll be sure to do that." Stiles laughed when Scott released him.

Stiles slid the now cooked sandwich onto a plate and handed it to Scott, who sat down to take a bite. The moment his teeth sunk into the sandwich, his eyes closed in delight.

"Damnit Stiles, how is it only _you _could make something so _plain _taste so fucking delicious."

"Call it a hidden talent." Stiles smiled.

Scott laughed with him for a few moments.

"Well I do have one question," Scott laughed with something glinting in his eye.

"What's that?"

"How come you never showed any interest in me?" Scott was attempting to hold back a laugh. "Am I not hot enough for you?"

Stiles laughed and smacked him in the arm. "Oh Scotty…." Stiles said in-between chuckles. "I like _real_ men. Not boys."

"You're such a fucking jackass!" Scott leapt up from the table laughing, and trapped Stiles underneath his arm while giving him a vicious noogie.

The two spent the rest of the afternoon in an uproarious bliss, laughing more than either of them had in a while.

xXxXxXxXxXx

The Sheriff laid his tired head in the palms of his hands. He was exhausted because he hadn't been sleeping. He was exhausted because he hadn't been home much at all in the past few days. He was exhausted because of all the processing his mind was constantly doing. The only problem was that it was no one's fault but his own.

Stiles, who was the cause of his mental stress, had in all actuality done nothing to deserve the blame his father wanted to put on him. So he was gay—big deal. The sheriff knew of plenty accounts in history where fathers and sons lived in disconnect because of their sexuality and opinions thereof. Just because Stiles was gay didn't mean that the sheriff had the right to shun him like he was doing at the present. _What kind of father am I?_ The sheriff groaned. He loved his son; there was no doubt about it. _Then why am I making such a big deal out of this?_ The sheriff tossed select ideas around in his mind.

Stiles was gay. The sheriff was trying his hardest to accept that. Then there was Derek Hale—exonerated felon. If Stiles was gay, the Sheriff could come to terms with that eventually, or so he thought. But having Derek in the picture…Derek was _no _good for Stiles. Not even by a long shot. Was there any guy in town good enough for his son? Was there _anyone _good enough for his son?

The sheriff though back to the night after Stiles went missing, and the beautiful girl with the red hair stopped by. Stiles had been seemingly obsessed with her at that point. What had happened to that? She didn't show interest in him of course (which pissed the sheriff off a bit.) Stiles was perfect for her. Perfect for her, and not for a guy. Not for Derek Hale.

The mere thought of the name brought a metallic taste into his mouth. Derek Hale could not and _would not_ be a part of Stiles' life.

Stiles being gay… the sheriff could eventually deal with that. Derek Hale being his lover… Absolutely not.

The sheriff let out one last exasperated groan. _I'm going to need a drink…or ten… to get through the rest of this week…_ He thought as his mind pictured the lovely, large bottle of whiskey stashed away in one of the drawers in his bedroom.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Vivian struggled to keep the tears from breaking through her control. She felt tainted for the millionth time since becoming a part of this god-forsaken alpha pack. Johnathan's sweaty body lay next to hers, though he was fast asleep in the aftermath of his orgasm. The word "no" was never enough to stop him, and though she was as much of an alpha as he was, he overpowered her. He soiled her yet again.

She rolled away stealthily, trying her best not to wake him. There was no doubt about it. She wanted him dead—worse than dead. She wanted to tear him apart, limb from limb, and burn each segment of worthless flesh to ashes. _I could do it now_, she though as she zipped up the back of her leather top. It would be easy. One simple swipe to his fucking throat, and it would all be over.

Now dressed, she quietly stepped to where he lay, claws protruding from her fingertips and her eyes aglow with her fury. One swipe… it's all it took. She pulled her hand back in preparation for the assault.

A strong grip held fast on her wrist.

"What are you doing?!" Tyson hissed.

"Back off!" Vivian hissed back.

"You _will_ not kill him." Tyson said with finality, his own alpha eyes portraying his seriousness.

"I'm sick of him…" Vivian growled.

"He is our leader. You forget the favors he did all of us. He _saved_ all of us." Tyson said in authority.

Vivian simply glowered at her fellow alpha. She could take him, that wasn't a question. But she couldn't do it without waking Johnathan and losing whatever chance at ending him she had. Then she had an idea. Someone else could do it. _Derek_ could do it. With the right motivation he could. After the note they left in the boy's room, she was sure that Derek was already seething.

One more threat on Stiles, and Derek would come for Johnathan. The other three had reported of his vain attempts at scouting out the woods. It would be easy enough for her to bring Johnathan into target range for Derek. Oh yes, this plan was forming nicely.

"Vivian…?" Tyson's eyes were no longer red as he looked at her with worry.

"I'm fine." She growled at him. "You're right I'm sorry. I was just angry." She put strict focus into controlling her heartbeat so he wouldn't detect her lies.

"Uh huh…" Tyson muttered suspiciously.

"I'm getting sick of this waiting around aren't you?"

"You know we can't do anything to the boy without Johnathan's orders." Tyson said.

"Well won't hurt him. Let's just… bring him over for a visit." It'll bring Derek straight to us…" She smiled a lovely white smile.

"You're fucking crazy." Tyson scoffed.

"Oh c'mon Ty…" Vivian stepped towards him. "I know you want a good fight as much as I do." She whispered in his ear, nibbling on his lobe as she did so. "You want his blood. You want all of their blood."

Tyson growled in lust at her sultry touch.

"We're alphas. We're stronger than all of them." She whispered, running her hands up his toned chest. "It would be easy. So…_deliciously…_ easy."

Tyson thought for a moment. "Maybe…we could have a bit of fun." He smirked with her.

"Then let's bring our guest in."

"Nick, Brandon, and I will leave tomorrow."

"Good." She sneered. "Johnathan and I will be waiting."

"Try not to kill him." Tyson warned her.

"You have my word." She smiled, pleased with his stupidity.

"We'll see you soon."

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek was on his way back to his burnt out house to pick up his Camaro before going to see Stiles. This Friday afternoon had turned up yet another dead end of false trails and disappointments. All this alpha bullshit made him edgy, especially when Stiles' safety was at risk. He couldn't understand their motivations for using him as a target. He had nothing of value. Derek was the one they should be after, seeing as he's an alpha as well.

He walked a few more paces before he stopped dead in his tracks. The woman's spicy scent wafted through the trees, no more than a mile or so directly in front of him. This was it. This was what he was waiting for. He took off in a flat out sprint.

The scent twisted this way and that, and Derek mirrored its actions. To his surprise, it led him out of the trees, and into the foreground of his house's property. The leather clad woman was standing before his front door. Derek stopped dead in his tracks, claws and fangs bared, eyes glistening ruby.

"Hello Derek." She turned around, a dark smile on her ebony lips.

Derek only growled, and crouched to attack.

"My my, not very friendly are we?" She laughed. "I'm only here to talk."

"Why would I give a fuck about what a bitch like you has to say?" Derek spat out in rage.

"Because I won't fight back. If you kill me, you kill me. Just know I'm bearing the white flag of surrender." She pulled a tissue from her pocket, and tossed it to the ground while snickering at her joke.

"Fuck you." Derek roared and charged, but his claws only grasped air as the woman gracefully twisted from his grasp.

"You don't even want to hear what I have to say before you kill me?" She gasped in mock offense.

"Why should I?" Derek spun on his heel, fangs bared.

"I happen to have two very important pieces of information for you." She replied easily. "Well only one. The other is a…how shall we say… a most intriguing proposition for you."

"I don't make deals with the devil." Derek scoffed.

"Oh but they can be so much fun." The woman stepped closer. "How 'bout I tell you, and then you make your decision?" She whispered in his ear, much as she had done with Tyson the previous night.

Derek only growled in disgust at her gesture.

"To be quite honest, I fucking hate Johnathan." Vivian yawned.

"And Johnathan is…" Derek pressed.

"Our 'leader'. Our prime." She spat out, making little quotations in the air on the word "leader."

"And you're telling me this why?" Derek growled.

"Because I want him dead." Vivian said simply. "I'm so sick of his bullshit, and it's all because he thinks I owe him some debt."

"For what?"

"Oh come now Derek," She laughed. "You understand how it is. They save your life once, and badda-bing-badda-boom, you're their slave."

"Well to me it sounds like you deserve it." Derek spat.

The woman's eyes flashed, but she replaced it with a sweet smile. "Well. If I asked you to help me kill him and the rest of my pack would you?"

"Why should I help you?" Derek asked.

"Because of my last piece of information." Vivian smiled easily.

"Which is…?" Derek was getting sick of this bullshit.

"Before I tell you I need you to promise me something." Vivian said.

"How am I supposed to trust you after you almost killed my mate _and _me?" Derek spat.

"I was under orders." She said defensively. "But now, let's say I'm performing espionage for you." Then she laughed. "Wait the _boy _is your mate?!"

"What of it?" He growled.

"I'm just a bit upset." She laughed mockingly. "What I would give to have someone like you for a mate."

"I'm done with the bitchy type." Derek spat, thinking back to Kate.

"What a waste." Vivian retorted, unphased by the insult.

"Will you cut to the fucking chase?" Derek roared at her.

"Don't need to be so rude." She pouted. "I am a lady after all."

Derek growled again.

"Well, I am surprised to find that boy is your mate. I knew he held some kind of importance in your life, but nothing to that extent." She whispered, and this time, honesty shone through her eyes. "It changes things, and what I have to ask will not be easy."

"What is it?"

"Well…taking down Johnathan won't be easy." Vivian said truthfully. "People are going to get hurt on both sides."

"I'm shocked." Derek said blandly.

"I'm being serious right now." Vivian growled. "Out of all best interests for you and your mate, the boy could get hurt. You need to leave him out of it." Vivian said affirmatively.

"I already planned on that." Derek said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You are so stupid." She growled again. "If the boy knows you are in danger, what do you think he'll do?"

Derek thought through what she had said, and pictured the stubbornness of his mate. Stiles would surely walk blindly into a warzone for Derek.

"He'd be there." Derek whispered.

"With a bunch of Alphas out for blood, I'm not sure that would be the best thing for him wouldn't you agree?"

"If he gets hurt…" Derek stepped forward.

"Then take matters into your own hands." She said simply.

"How do I do that?"

"_You _have to hurt him." She said grimly. "You have to make him believe that you don't want him in the picture, in which case he won't follow you into the woods, and be slaughtered like yesterday's cattle."

"You want me to…" Derek's voice softened.

"Yes, Derek. If only for just the weekend, you have to make him believe that you don't want him. Only then will he not follow you to his death."

"What if he doesn't believe me?"

"Make him." Was her only reply. "I'm sure after this all blows over, he'll take you back. I just want him to stay safe for when you help me kill Johnathan."

"I don't think I can." Derek said."

"Mates aren't what they're all cracked out to be." Vivian spat.

"Mine is." Derek said.

"Well you might want to rethink that." Vivian said.

"Why?" Derek asked, on edge.

"That's my second piece of information." Her voice was nothing but a grim whisper. "Stiles is in danger as we speak. Nick, Tyson, and Brandon are coming for him. Tonight."


	24. Chapter 24

**Hello everybody, quick note simply to tell you that I love all of you for sticking **with** this story. The feedback that you all give is wonderful and I love seeing how all of you react! Please continue to keep reviewing/commenting/following/favoriting. Loves y'all!**

Derek's breath rushed into his lungs and back out again. The only color his eyes could see was a wash of red over everything in his path. His heart raced in anger and in fear. Stiles was the only thing occupying his mind. Derek's body shot through the trees and onto the main road leading into Beacon Hills.

Derek could hear his feet pounding the pavement as he ran to the house of his mate. The sky above was obscured in misty clouds, silencing the stars behind them. Even the moon above was hidden. Like the darkness all around him, the fear in Derek's heart began to spread its icy tendrils through his body, slowly dulling all hope for Stiles' safety.

Stiles' street came into view. Derek shot passed a few houses. Stiles' jeep was still in the driveway. _Oh God…Please let him still be here…Please let him be alright…Please…Please…Please…_ Derek never considered himself to be a religious person, but at the present moment, he was saying every prayer he knew to whatever God was listening.

Derek sprinted closer, noting that the sheriff's cruiser was yet again not there. _Leave it to his father to not give a fuck…_ Derek growled to himself.

Then it hit him like a freight train. Derek's heart stopped. _Blood…_ The smell of it saturated the cool night air around him. Cautiously he stepped up the driveway, sniffing this way and that when in horror; his eyes fell on the source of the sickening smell.

Jackson laid in a pool of blood on the concrete, gashes oozing blood on his shoulders, back, sides, and seemingly from underneath him where his torso lay pressed against the cold cement.

"Jackson!" Derek rushed to his side, quickly rolling the boy onto his back. There was no response. "Jackson!" Derek yelled again, pressing his ear to the bloodied chest of the boy. There was only the faintest of heartbeats, and it grew weaker by the moment.

Jackson groaned, but otherwise remained unresponsive.

Derek growled. "Jackson! Wake up!"

The boy remained limp. He was dying. That many wounds from alphas were bound to take their toll. Derek shoved his hands under Jackson's hips and shoulders and hoisted him up. Taking a moment to adjust himself with Jackson in his arms, Derek jolted off running into the night towards Deaton's office. On his departure, the thunder boomed ahead and the sky let go with ice cold tears.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Deaton whistled to himself quietly as he finished putting the last roll of gauze into the metal lock cabinet.

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

"We're closed!" Deaton yelled through the doorway into the lobby. He was getting sick of this.

_BAM! _

The door flew off its hinges at the force of the blow, and in strode Derek Hale carrying a severely wounded Jackson Whitmore.

"You should know that when there is a knock on your door after closing hours that it isn't a normal veterinary appointment…" Derek growled.

"Good point." Deaton shrugged. "Bring him back here."

Derek followed the vet's instructions and brought Jackson into the back exam room, laying him on the table.

"What did it this time?" Deaton asked calmly pulling on a pair of rubber gloves.

"An alpha pack," Derek muttered angrily. "They are trying to get me to join their pack. Look doc, I'll fill you in later… they have Stiles."

"You can't go alone!" Deaton stopped him. "That's suicide."

"I don't have time to gather everyone else." Derek growled at the hand on his shoulder. "The longer I wait, the longer they will have Stiles. Besides, I owe a bitch of theirs one hell of a karma trip." Derek thought back to Vivian.

"Derek…Just be careful." Deaton cautioned.

Derek nodded, and then ran for the door, disappearing into the rain.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Stiles' eyes fluttered open and he lifted his head, cringing in pain at the stiffened soreness of his neck. His entire body hurt, he realized as consciousness returned to his numb limbs. Stiles yawned and then tried to stretch; his eyes snapped open at the realization of the inability to do so. He looked around.

Stiles found that his entire body was tied roughly to the trunk of a pine tree with a coarse rope. His breath hitched in his throat as the memories of the night's events flashed through his mind. After school this afternoon, Jackson had been sent to watch over him. Neither of the two seemed remotely thrilled about the prospect, yet fearing the consequences, Jackson did as he was ordered and drove with Stiles home. The minute Stiles had put the Jeep in park and turned the engine off, they were on them. Three overly massive werewolves who moved like lightning.

Stiles remembered seeing two of them close in on Jackson as he was being dragged away by the third in a vice like grip. The last thing Stiles remembered was a sharp blow to the side of his head and fading into the blackness to the sounds of Jackson's screams.

_What do they want with me? _Stiles' mind raced. _What the fuck did I do?_ Stiles looked around. He was somewhere in the forest obviously, but he had no idea where. The sky was dark and cloudy and the air around him smelled like rain. He had no idea what time it was either.

"I hope you're comfortable." A sultry voice sung from the darkness behind him.

The woman that Derek had fought back in the woods a while ago stepped into view, a sweet smile on her face.

"Bring me a platter of prime rib and a glass of Chardonnay and everything will be wonderful." Stiles spat at her.

"Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed tonight." She pouted.

"Are you for real?" Stiles questioned vehemently. "Could you be any cheesier? You're supposed to be evil and wanting to strip the flesh from my bones and stuff. Not be a Disney movie villain. God, I liked you better when Derek kicked your ass—"

_Smack!_

The back of her hand collided with his cheek, and Stiles thought his eye was going to explode. His head was already throbbing from earlier.

"You need to learn to get a filter you little bitch." Vivian growled venomously. "Is that better treatment for you?"

"On second thought I'd rather take the Disney movie."

Vivian pinched his chin in her hand. "You should be thanking me for keeping you alive." The words were dark.

"Derek would have killed you." Stiles said defensively. "He would have killed _all_ of you."

"He would have _tried_…" She laughed at him. "He couldn't even take _me_ on last time." Vivian smiled.

"Wanna try for round two?" Derek growled menacingly from the trees. His eyes were already ablaze in ruby fury.

"That was faster than I thought." Vivian stood and looked over her shoulder. "I have to say Derek. You must really love this boy."

"You wouldn't know."

"I would." Vivian spat at him. "How the hell do you think I ended up here?"

"You opened your legs too wide." Derek simply said.

She gave a roar and lashed at him with her claws, but this time, it was Derek who gracefully dodged out of the way.

"My mate was killed by hunters." Vivian spat. "He was all that was left of my pack. So when he died I became an omega."

"I really don't care." Derek said, stepping in Stiles' direction.

"Fine. Then you'll know what I went through by myself." Vivian growled, and spun on her heel.

Before Stiles knew what was next, he saw Vivian's leather clad figure diving through the air towards him, claws and fangs bared. He closed his eyes, waiting for the pain.

But it never came. Stiles opened his eyes to see Derek holding Vivian in vicious headlock just a few feet from where he was bound. The two growled at each other before Vivian kicked her foot up into a high kick, bringing her flexed toe to collide with Derek's forehead. Derek's grip faltered and she spun around swiping out with her claws. They grazed Derek's cheek, leaving their marks in his flesh. Blood trickled from the wound.

Vivian threw her head back, and roared to the sky above. Stiles knew from when he helped Scott do the same thing that she was calling for her pack. As she did so, Derek took the opportunity to lung forward, tackling her to the ground before he gripped her face by both sides. Bringing her head up, he slammed it back into the ground against some stones on the forest floor with a dull thud. Her body went limp under him.

"Oh my god Derek! Is she dead?"

"I don't think so, just knocked out." Derek growled, rushing over to his mate. "When I get you free, you run straight that way," Derek pointed to the direction he had come from. "Run and don't stop whatever you do. "

Stiles nodded. Derek's claws flashed down, and Stiles heard the slice of rope after rope. His restraints grew weaker.

When he was free, he sprang from where he sat wrapping his arms around Derek's neck. Stiles pressed a small kiss onto Derek's lips. "Be careful Derek. Come home to me."

"I will. Now go!"

Stiles did as he was told and leapt into a sprint in the direction Derek had pointed out. He ran and ran and ran, pausing only to catch his breath after about ten minutes of running. He could barely make out the city lights through the trees. He was almost to safety.

For a brief moment, Stiles turned back the direction he had come from, his mind on his mate. He brought his fingertips to the lips that briefly had held Derek's. Something wasn't right. The kiss didn't feel right. It didn't feel like Derek's previous ones. _He was probably just worried about me._ Stiles nodded to himself, hoping that was the case, before he turned and ran out of the trees.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek watched Stiles run off; while keeping near Vivian's unconscious body so she couldn't chase him had she regained consciousness. She simply lay there, motionless and limp.

The crack of a twig sounded from behind him. Derek whirled around to come square with a male alpha. This man said not a word, but merely crouched as his claws protruded from his fingertips. He growled, and charged at Derek, a feral howl escaping his lips.

Derek braced himself for impact, and caught the male in a fierce table-top, lifting him over his back and letting him fall to the forest floor. The alpha deftly rolled back onto his feet and charged again. This time, Derek let loose with a full-on uppercut to the chin, once again flattening the alpha.

These alphas had threatened his mate too many times, and now it was time for them to pay. Derek used the thought of Stiles as a focusing agent for his rage. With each pass the opposing wolf made at him, he returned it tenfold.

The other alpha was growling and roaring uncontrollably as he tried time and time again to land a successful blow on Derek, however not one made their mark. Derek let his claws lash forward, striking the other wolf along just under his throat. Blood began to gush from the wound, and his growls were reduced to nothing more than an enfeebled gargle.

The alpha collapsed at Derek's feet, hands fluttering at the base of his throat trying to stifle the bleeding. Derek looked down in disgust at him, feeling no remorse. He leant down and hoisted the dying alpha up by the collar of his shirt before shoving him against the nearest tree trunk, growling menacingly as he did so.

Even on the verge of death, the alpha in his grasp still fought, however much in vain. The hatred burning behind his ruby eyes showed nothing resembling humanity. Sick of the sight before him, Derek pulled one clawed hand back, and then thrust it roughly forward.

There was a sickening crunch as Derek's fist burst through the alpha's chest, effectively crushing his dying heart and snapping his spine. The alpha fell limply to the forest floor, all ruby light dissipated from his eyes.

Derek sighed in relief. _One down. One less able to hurt Stiles. _At the mention of Stiles' name, Derek's heart sunk. As much as he hated to admit it, Vivian had spoken truthfully to Derek. There was no way he could live happily in Stiles' life without putting Stiles in grave danger. Derek could not put Stiles in a risk like that. Everything Derek touched would soon burn. Stiles, if left in Derek's companionship, would get hurt. There was no place for Derek in the life of an innocent boy like Stiles.

He dropped his head to the forest floor, as a single tear slid past his control at the thought of losing Stiles. _But if I don't push him away, then I'll really lose him…forever._ Tonight was proof enough of that. With Derek in the picture, Stiles was in danger. There was no way around it.

Derek turned and began running in the direction he had sent Stiles earlier. He knew what he needed to do—if only for Stiles' safety. Derek could deal with being broken, but he could not deal with life should Stiles be hurt or worse. With the solution at hand, Stiles would still be alive, and Derek could deal with that even if it meant he could only be in the background. Stiles would be safe, and that's all that mattered.

Derek's mind was made up. He forced all emotion back inside himself, and returned to the all-too-familiar blank shell.

_ He'll find someone else. Someone who won't put him in danger….someone who won't come with baggage…he'll find someone perfect for him. _

Though he hated the thought of someone else having Stiles, so be it—only as long as Stiles was safe. With those thoughts, he sprinted to Stiles' house, hating what he was about to do.


	25. Chapter 25

**Hello everybody! Thank you so much for sticking with this story! I know I am upsetting a lot of you with how things are progressing, but what's a story without emotion and suspense? Any-who I apologize for the upset that I cause through this story, please don't hate me for it. Without further ado—here is chapter…what is this 25? 25!**

Stiles braced himself on his knees, gasping for breath. He had made it. He was home. He was safe. Stiles breathed in the fresh air around him, which had been softened by the rain. There were droplets of water clinging to his jeep and his father's police cruiser. Stiles looked to the area of concrete just above his jeep where Jackson had lain; silently praying that he was alright. The rain must have washed away all the blood too, for there was no trace of what had occurred tonight on the cement.

Reaching into his pocket, Stiles withdrew his cell phone looking to check the time. _Fuck…_ Stiles felt his stomach drop as he realized his cell phone was dead. With his father's cruiser home, he had no doubt been wondering where Stiles had gone. _I'm so fucked…_ Stiles sighed, and trudged toward the front door. Unlocking it, he stepped inside quietly.

The foyer was dark. The sheriff's belt and gun holster hung on the rack next to the front door. _Maybe this can wait until morning…_ Stiles hoped that his father was in bed. The red lights of the microwave screen stared at him accusingly, displaying 12:30am.

Continuing his silent prayer for a merciful night, Stiles removed his red hoodie, and hung it next to his father's belt. He placed a cautious foot on the first step to the second floor, and then another. The house remained silent.

The top of the landing was just as dark as the foyer below, and consequently just as quiet. Stiles sighed in relief, thinking his father was undoubtedly asleep. He quickly stepped to his room to remove his shoes and shirt, and then padded to the bathroom.

"Stiles…"

He froze at the deep whisper fluttering from his father's bedroom. _Shit…_

"Hey dad…" Stiles slowly turned around.

"Where the hell have you been?" His father stepped from the room wearing boxers and a t-shirt. There was a large brown bottle in his hand. He had been drinking…a habit he had supposedly kicked a year or so after mom had died.

"Ummm…" _Fuck…_ "I was…out." Stiles cleared his throat.

"Care to elaborate?" His father's eyes seemed to flash even in the dark.

"Just with friends, dad. Jeez what's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal?" The sheriff's voice took a sudden crescendo. "Stiles, there is still an unsolved murder case and I have placed a strict curfew on the town. How can I get others to obey it if I can't even get my own son to? Not to mention the stress you put me through the last time I couldn't find you!" He saw Stiles' recognition of the lacrosse game a few months ago.

"Dad, I was safe I was with Scott—"

"Don't feed me that bullshit!"

The outburst made Stiles jump from his place by the door.

"You were with Derek Hale, weren't you!?" The sheriff demanded.

Stiles moved his lips, hoping an answer would slip out.

"WEREN'T YOU?"

"How do you know about that…?" Stiles felt his heart pound in his chest.

"I saw you…a few nights ago…" The sheriff's voice wavered down from its outburst. His eyes trailed to the floor. "He was all bloodied and hurt. I don't want you around that."

"Dad, he is innocent!" Stiles cried.

"I don't care. He's dangerous, and he'll only put you in danger."

"Dad I'm fine!" Stiles' mind raced for a way to show his father how he felt about the alpha werewolf.

"He's too dangerous to be around." The sheriff let out a soft belch. "I don't care how…involved…you guys are…"

Stiles' world stopped turning. _What…_ "Dad what are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I am talking about." There sheriff pointed a drunken finger. "I saw the way you held him that night."

"Dad…I…" The words would not show themselves.

"I just don't understand…" The sheriff's eyes found his son's again. This time, they sparkled with something other than anger. "Why does it have to be him?" His voice broke. "Why do you have to want him…?"

"Because no one makes me feel the way he does dad!"

"What about that red-head girl? The one who came after you went missing the last time!"

"I thought I liked her… I really did… But Derek…just…"

"I don't want to hear about him." His father's voice sounded in finality. "Stiles, I'm doing the best I can dealing with you being…gay or whatever... I really am. Derek is just _no_ good for you!"

"How would you know what's best for me?!" Stiles shouted. "Where have you been the past few days? Hell, where have you been the past few months? Fuck dad, where have you been since _mom died?_" The second the words left his lips, Stiles wished he had never said them.

His father stood in front of him, his jaw open. For the first time since…well since mom _had_ died… Stiles witnessed a tear slide down his father's slightly wrinkling cheek.

"Dad…I…" Stiles stepped forward.

The sheriff only held a hand up. "Well…I'm glad you're home safe. Get to bed, you need some sleep." He turned, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand.

"Dad…wait…"

The sheriff paused in the door, his back to his son. "You know Stiles, I really am trying my hardest here. I'm sorry I haven't been here like a real father should, but I haven't exactly been dealt the best hand either. I love you son, nothing is going to change that. I just… I just wish you were… _normal._" His father stepped inside his room and shut the door, not even bothering to turn to look at his son.

Stiles' thoughts whirled in a storm of putrid chaos. He couldn't believe he had said what he had to his father, and he couldn't believe what his father had said in reply. His father was right. Everything was his own fault. His father made the best of losing a wife and raising a son with a fulltime job—one which required an insurmountable amount of attention. Stiles cringed inwardly at his ignorance to his father, and even more so his blatant disrespect. His father was right. Everything _would_ be better had he been born _normal._

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek perched on the roofing next to Stiles' window. His resolve to push Stiles away was quickly dissolving into the night air around them. In all honesty, he could have done it now. But the atmosphere of the household had changed dramatically. What was a quiet, peaceful house just moments ago now emanated an aura so thick and heavy with darkness and sadness. Derek wasn't at all sure that what he had to tell Stiles would help him through the night.

_I'm going to lose him anyway… it doesn't have to be tonight…_ Derek could gather the pack and attack the alphas tomorrow, and well… if he died, then there wouldn't be a problem. If they lived, he could still push Stiles away without putting him in further danger.

Derek peeked into Stiles' window and saw Stiles just sitting on the edge of his bed. The wolf inside commanded him to open the window and take the boy in his arms as he had done every night for the past few weeks. _That won't help anything. _Derek thought to himself. With the longing in his heart to touch his mate, Derek stubbornly leapt from his perch and strode into the darkness. Had he given into Stiles' pull now, he would never be able to keep Stiles from harm.

Before reaching the end of the street, Derek turned and sent Stiles a silent kiss…even if it was for the last time.


	26. Chapter 26

**So if it seems like I am throwing updates at y'all left and right, I apologize. I start school again in two weeks and with it means literally 15-20 hour days of practice, school, and work. I'm basically trying to get as much out to you all if not finish the story by the end of the summer. Thanks! Love you! Please continue to review/rate/comment/favorite/follow!**

Derek continued into the night in the direction of Deaton's office. The first step to gathering his pack was to check on Jackson, and make sure he was alright. Jackson would be in no condition to fight, however he was entitled to the knowledge of what the next twenty four hours held in store. There was a good chance none of them would make it back.

Derek breathed into the night air. The rain had all but ceased to a drizzle. Derek thought that fitting—how it should be raining at a time like this. His mother used to tell him that every time it rained, someone in heaven was crying for the sake of a loved one down on earth. _What a turn of events for you little boy, eh mom? _He offered up to the sky. _Something to pity right? _Derek sighed and trudged on.

With the storm around him, the air smelled fresh. The rain smelled sweet. Everything around him…smelled like Stiles. Derek's chest clenched in agony—the thought of Stiles and his porcelain skin, bottomless eyes, angelic smile—ripped him apart. If there by the grace of God had been any other way to keep Stiles in his life while keeping him safe, Derek would gladly pay whatever price—but no such option existed. So, as long as the knowledge that Stiles was alive and well stayed with him, Derek could live on.

Deaton's office broke through the mists, the front door stood propped against the door frame. _I should probably pay for that…If I'm still alive after tomorrow. _He stepped through the threshold, and carefully placed the door where it was. The fluorescent lights of the exam room sifted into the waiting room.

"Derek." Deaton appeared in the doorway.

"How is he?" Derek's eyes met the vet's.

"He's alive…surprisingly. He suffered quite a bit of trauma tonight." Deaton replied monotonously.

"Is he awake?"

"Barely."

"I need to speak with him." Derek stepped forward.

"Let him rest Derek…" Deaton cautioned sternly. "The boy needs to sleep."

"Deaton, we're going after the alpha pack tomorrow. This can't go on anymore. I'm not making Jackson come with us…he'd be dead in a second."

"You've come to say goodbye then." It wasn't a question.

"Hopefully not for forever." Derek bit his lip.

"Do it quickly." Deaton nodded and stepped inside.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Erika and Boyd trudged further into the trees. They had been walking for days stopping here and there while on the way, though they only made it a hundred or so miles from Beacon Hills. They made do with what they had, and they did so without complaining. In lieu of their past actions, they knew they had no right to complain about their current predicament. With everything they had done for the alpha pack against their own, they had put innocent people in danger. Guilt weighed their shoulders down, yet they trudged on still.

"Erika wait…" Boyd grasped her hand firmly. "Listen…do you hear that?"

Erika strained her ears. Ever so faintly, even with her amplified hearing, she could barely make out the echoing sound.

"It's Derek…" She turned to face Boyd. "He's calling to the pack…they're going to do it…"

"The alpha pack…" Boyd continued.

"They're preparing to fight." Erika nodded.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Stiles sat up in his bed. Sleep had left him lonely through the night. Derek was not there to chase the darkness away, and in his absence a riot of nightmares left Stiles enfeebled and sleepless. Stiles had tried to call Derek on his cell, but got no response. He even went so far as to wish for his mate out of his window, hoping somehow Derek would hear it. But no one ever came.

Stiles turned to gaze at his alarm clock.

5:30am.

_Shit._ He cursed to the cloudy heavens. He needed to sleep but it would not come. Not without Derek. _Please let him be alright._

Stiles' stomach rumbled. _When was the last time I had something to eat?_ Stiles thought hard. It had to have been lunch the day before. He hadn't had time to eat when he got home…the alpha pack had made sure of that.

He through the covers back, pulled pants and a baggy shirt on, and trudged downstairs. There was a noise by the front door, and Stiles' breath hitched in his throat. He slowly turned.

The sheriff was buckling his gun holster around his waist, a sign he was leaving for the station.

"Hey dad…" Stiles whispered, guilt evident in his tone.

The sheriff didn't turn around. "I'm sorry for not saying goodbye. I'm going into the station today. You're right you know…I'm never here." The sheriff let a sigh out. "But given the circumstances between us…maybe that's the best for right now."

"Dad I didn't mean—" Stiles stammered.

"It's okay son. I just need to come up with a plan. I refuse to be one of those fathers who completely ignores their kid anymore. But for the next few days, that is going to be a reality…until we both sort things out." For a brief moment, the sheriff turned to look at his son.

For that brief moment, when Stiles saw his father's eyes, he felt yet another piece of his heart rip itself to shreds. The sadness behind those brown eyes seemed endless, and Stiles knew he was the cause of it. _Dad…_

"Goodbye, son. I'll be back later. Stay safe."

With that, the sheriff turned, and was out the door, leaving Stiles petrified behind him.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek looked at everyone around him. Scott, Isaac, uncle peter, and by the grace of Scott's persuasion, Allison and her father, all stared back at him. With everything Derek regretted in his life, nothing stood out more prominent than two things. One: that he didn't have his mate to say goodbye too. And two: the pack was not whole. He wished he had never sent Erika and Boyd away. Even though they all had the same slim chance of living as he did, there was comfort in the pack—comfort in his _family. _The only family he had left.

"I'm sorry this is such short notice." Derek began gravely. "But last night, Stiles was taken and Jackson was badly hurt. I'm quite shocked he is still alive, actually."

"Is Stiles okay?" Scott interrupted.

"He's fine. I got their just in time." Derek assured him. "But if the alpha pack remains in Beacon Hills, his, or anyone else's safety is in jeopardy. Which is why—"

"Which is why we need to take them out." Chris Argent cut him off.

"Right." Derek nodded. "Thank you for deciding to help." He said in earnest in the direction of Allison's father.

"Cut to the battle plan." Peter piped up. "We need to think tactically."

"I'm not exactly sure tactics are going to be of much good," Derek said grimly. "When I saved Stiles, I killed one of theirs. They will be prepared for a fight."

"Do they know we're coming?" Isaac asked.

"No. I don't think so, but the surprise will only give us an advantage for a few moments."

"So how is this going to work then?" Peter scoffed.

"I killed one of the males, which means there are two more, a woman, and their prime."

"Well I'd say that puts you at a further advantage," Peter appraised. "You have one of the alpha's powers now."

"Which leads me to my next point." Derek replied. "I've only thought about how we take them on. Isaac, Peter, and Allison…you will attack one of the males. Scott and Chris, you will take the other."

"I'm not leaving Scott." Allison demanded.

_Oh for Christ's sake. _

"Scott will need more help than just me." Chris said. "Allison and I should help him. If Scott can keep him at bay, Allison and I will have no problem taking him out. Then we'll all handle the other one." He turned to Isaac and Peter. "You think you can hang on that long?"

"Not entirely no." Peter said matter-of-factly. "I'm not at full strength anymore."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence…"Isaac muttered.

"Enough!" Derek roared. "Chris, if you guys can take your alpha out quickly then do it. I'm not anticipating an easy fight here so we are all going to have it rough. As for me, I'll take the prime and the woman."

"That's suicide!" Scott cried.

"Not entirely." Derek muttered. He knew what he was planning was a gamble. "The female, _Vivian,_" He spat her name out. "Seems to want the prime dead. I don't care how or why, all I care about is that she might switch sides."

"Or she might rip your throat out." Peter said.

"It's worth a shot." Derek shrugged. He had long given up hope for making it past today alive.

"So that's it then." Scott whispered.

"Yes Scott, that's all I have."

"Everyone start praying." Peter muttered.

xXxXxXxXxXx

They stood in a semi-circle around the clearing where Stiles had been held captive. Derek, Isaac, Scott, and Peter sniffed the air.

"Where are they?" Chris whispered, holding two .45 hand guns poised and at the ready.

"They're here." Peter growled. "So much for the surprise."

As if on cue, four figures stepped form the trees in the morning sunrise.

"Derek. So good of you to come." The man in the middle said nonchalantly. "I do regret that I have a bit of unfinished business with you, seeing as you killed one of my own." He must have been the prime.

"They took my mate." Derek growled back.

"They were only supposed to threaten him." The prime gave a sideways glare to Vivian. "That's the problem with having a pack of alphas. They do what they wish…even if it is against orders."

"It doesn't change the fact that they did!" Derek roared.

"Easy my friend." Johnathan chuckled. "If you join our pack, then you everyone can leave. No one has to get hurt today, and all past transgressions can be…resolved."

"You know that's not happening."

"I do say, it's a shame. But it was worth a shot." The prime shook his head.

"I've heard enough." Derek burst forward charging for the prime.

The alpha pack responded, the two males going to meet him. Feral growls and roars filled the clearing.

The instant Derek took off, Peter and Isaac took for their target. Scott and Chris did the same. With the two males occupied, there was a clear path for Derek.

"Close your eyes!" Allison shouted from behind.

A split second after she let a cascade of arrows fly from her bow. Upon impact, the heads burst into flares of white light. Derek's pack, being prepared for the visual assault, kept their eyes closed and followed their senses of smell to their targets. The alpha pack was not as prepared.

The alpha male Scott had been fighting had Scott trapped in a vicious headlock, his fangs aimed at Scott's exposed neck. When the flares assaulted his eyes, he dropped his claws in reflex, allowing Scott to drop to the ground and roll deftly away.

The deafening bangs of Chris's hand guns rattled the air as a flurry of wolf's bane bullets flew towards the distracted target.

Isaac and peter weren't fairing as well. In the first few bursts of light, the alpha had become distracted as well. Isaac had taken the lack of guard to jump onto his back clawing viciously at any flesh visible and Peter attacked the front. The alpha responded by closing his eyes, rendering the bursts of light ineffective. Now in control of the situation, the alpha reached back and sunk his claws into Isaac's shoulder.

Isaac howled in agony as the claws tore through his flesh like tissue paper, and suddenly he was airborne, being deftly hurled several yards away.

The alpha then set his focus on Peter, who was ducking this way and that, landing minor swipes on the alpha's thighs, chest, and sides. They did little to deter his course.

Derek was in a fierce brawl with Vivian who stepped forward to protect Johnathan. The two whirled around this way in that in a furious dance of claws. That was when he heard it.

Peter's cry rang throughout the clearing as the alpha male impaled his fist into Peter's chest. Derek could hear the flesh tearing as the alpha's claws sliced through the muscle of his heart. He was gone in a second, dropping to the ground in an instantly lifeless heap.

"NO!" Derek roared as a rage so terrible swept through his limbs. He turned his crimson gaze back to Vivian, who too was distracted by the Peter's death. Suddenly his anger overwhelmed him, and his blows fell faster and faster. Vivian only twisted out of a few before Derek caught her in the shoulder. Her cries only seemed to anger him more and he sliced again at the small of her back. With a third blow Derek, sent her flying a few feet back in a bloody heap on the ground.

"Very good Derek." Johnathan smiled. He stepped forward.

Meanwhile, Isaac cried out in fury as he saw Peter's lifeless form drop to the ground. He staggered to his feet and charged the smiling alpha. His movements were weak and slow, and the alpha flattened him with an upper-cut to the chin.

The wind left his body as he saw the alpha loom over him.

The other alpha was gasping for breath as Chris emptied his clip into the flesh of his chest, yet still he staggered forward.

The whistle of Allison's arrow sounded just before it impaled itself into his left shoulder, and then again in his abdomen and he howled in fury. Scott then picked himself up from the ground and took the opportunity to tackle the alpha to the ground.

Shocked by the sudden assault, the alpha sank to his knees just before Scott flattened him. He brought his claws up to defend himself, but the poisonous herb now flowing in his veins dulled his strength and slowed his movements.

Scott then let loose with a flurry of claws, swiping at every inch of flesh visible. The alpha's flesh of his face, chest, and shoulders seemed to melt under the rapid assault of Scott's claws. With one final swipe, Scott sliced the middle of the alpha's jugular, silencing the ragged breathing the alpha had labored into. It was quickly replaced by a slow gargle as blood flowed freely from the wound.

Scott looked into the eyes of the alpha, witnessing the crimson red slowly fade as the life left his body. As the lights in those cold eyes faded, Scott slowly stood. There was an incredible surge of power within him as he realized what he had just done. He had slain an alpha.

Scott then turned his now burning eyes to where he heard Isaac cry. The alpha had Isaac pinned, and he was raising his claws for the final blow. Scott roared and charged forth, feeling the all new strength within him propel him forward. The alpha looked up in surprise just as Scott slammed into him, effectively knocking him off of Isaac and tackling him to the ground. Isaac was on his feet in an instant and he sauntered forth to help Scott.

Derek, who was now in a death match with the prime, was making no headway. The blood rage that fueled him to get through Vivian seemed to be nullified at the strength of the prime. Every blow Derek sent was parried and sent back. Nothing Derek did was effective, yet on he fought.

There was a gleeful twinkle in Johnathan's eyes. _He's toying with me._ Derek thought. _I can't do it._ He sent another swipe, which the prime easily outstepped.

Neither of them noticed Vivian slowly getting to her feet, eyes ablaze. In seconds, she leapt forward, her claws slicing the flesh of Johnathan's back. Johnathan threw his head back in agony, and Derek leapt back in shock.

Johnathan whirled around, catching Vivian's second attempt in his hand. "You insolent little bitch." He growled at her, He threw her back, and her body hit the trunk of a nearby tree with a thudding crack. She crumpled to the ground, and Johnathan was on her in an instant.

Now that his back was turned, Derek took the chance to lung forward, hoping to land some type of blow. Johnathan only whirled around, bringing Vivian's weak body with him like a ragdoll. He used his free hand to swipe at Derek, and as his blow landed, Derek's mouth filled with blood. He collapsed.

"Now for you." Johnathan turned his gaze to Vivian who glared at him with her own crimson eyes.

"Go to hell." She spat at him.

"I'll see you there." He whispered, and sunk his fangs into her throat, ripping out the flesh there with ease. She was gone in an instant.

Johnathan let her limp body fall, and he spat the red contents of his mouth into the weeds next to her corpse. He turned slowly, his gaze setting on Derek.

The alpha Scott and Isaac had been fighting had now gained his footing, and the three were circling each other. Chris and Allison then sent a flurry of bullets and arrows towards him. The alpha roared as the assault tore his flesh apart. Scott and Isaac took the opportunity to charge. Scott's claws sunk into the alpha's chest, and Isaac shoved his claws into the throat, taking a firm grasp of the spinal cord at the back. With a roar, Isaac pulled sharply, and heard a faint crack as the head of the alpha ripped sickeningly form his shoulders. The body crumpled to the ground, and Isaac felt the surge of power in his veins.

"Derek you really are more trouble than your worth." Johnathan spat, all cockiness aside. "I should have killed your pack when I had the chance. But I'll settle for you." He smiled and pulled his claws back.

Derek closed his eyes in defeat. There were multiple growls and then a large thud. Derek's eyes shot open, only to see two figures on top of Johnathan raining blows upon his ever increasingly bleeding face. These two figures weren't Scott or Isaac. Derek noted the blond curls.

"Erika! Boyd!" Derek leapt forward to help his betas, but was too late. Boyd's hulking body flew several yards back.

Erika's cry rang through the trees as Johnathan kicked her back as well, but clung to her black jacket, keeping her in range.

"Welcome back." Johnathan sneered, and shoved his claws into her abdomen.

"NO!" Derek yelled.

Johnathan tossed Erika aside and turned to face Derek who was on him in an instant. Derek saw nothing but red. He threw out wild blows, some hitting their mark, others not. Johnathan, now enfeebled, put effort into the brawl, struggling to keep the upper hand.

The Argents soon opened fire on him as well, while Isaac and Scott ran to Boyd's aid. Boyd, now regaining composure, saw Erika's figure on the ground.

"Erika!"

His wolf burst forth as he charged for the prime alpha that killed her. Derek had landed a few successful blows, and now had Johnathan pressed against a tree where he fought for his life. Boyd joined his alpha in raining blows on the degrading creature before them, and ultimately tipped the tables.

In unison, Derek and Boyd pulled their clawed hands back and shoved them forward, impaling Johnathan to the tree behind him. Boyd could feel the prime's heart stop in his and Derek's clawed hands. Then, just before the life faded from Johnathan's eyes, Boyd felt the rush of power.

It was over.

Derek let the body fall to the ground. Boyd immediately left his side, rushing to the aid of his companion. The pack gathered around.

Erika grasped at the grass around her bleeding figure, trying desperately to pull a solid breath of air in.

"Erika! Erika please stay with me. Please Please stay with me." Boyd begged. He cupped her face with his bloodied hand. "Erika look at me!"

Erika did her best to comply, seeming to take an immense amount of effort to merely keep her eyes focused on her companion's tear streaked face.

Derek stepped into view, kneeling by the pair's side. "We need to get her to Deaton. She still has a chance."

Derek prepared to push off of the ground; however Erika's hand grasped his ankle. Derek shifted his gaze to hers.

"Will…will you..f-f-forgive m-me?" Erika's eyes pleaded what her voice could not.

Derek's jaw tightened.

"This pack is all we have left." Boyd turned to Derek. "It's all _she _has."

Derek looked at her. "Welcome home."

Erika's eyes seemed to smile as the words left Derek's mouth. She could die happily.

"We need to get her to Deaton." Derek repeated.

Everyone nodded in agreement.Boyd picked her up into his arms, though she screamed in pain. Derek left the circle, stopping at his uncle's silent body. He bent slowly, and Peter up in his arms as well, though no sounds left those cold lips.

Derek didn't turn around to face his pack when he spoke. "Go. Get Erika to Deaton. I'll meet you all there." His jaw remained clenched, and he heard silent whispers fly and dead leaves crunch beneath feet as everyone left.

"I'm sorry Uncle." His voice choked.

It was true. Though Peter had his evil ways, and though Derek had always thought him unwelcome, there was no changing the fact that Peter was family—_the only _family he had left—and that too was now taken from him.

Derek slowly left the clearing with his uncle's body in his arms, heading in the direction of his burnt home—the home which housed so many of the Hale family in life and in death. It was here where Peter would be buried. Peter Hale would finally be able to rest…at home…

xXxXxXxXxXx

Stiles sat at his bedroom desk staring at nothing. His mind was wandering in and out of daydreams—he thought about his father. The look his father gave him just before he walked out the door impaled him in the chest with the force of a flame reddened pike. Hope was vacant in the brown irises so much like his own. Stile had done it. He had pushed the last family member he had away.

To make matters worse, he couldn't get ahold of anyone all day—not Scott or Lydia or Jackson… Derek didn't even return his calls, nor did he show at any point during the day. Something was wrong…

Stiles had tried to keep calm throughout the day. He had originally thought they were at the Hale house or the train depot… Each destination added to his anxiety as no trace of anybody was found.

It was now 10:00pm. His father was officially not coming home until late tonight, though Stiles held him in no sort of blame. He yawned. _Maybe some sleep would help. _Stiles thought, hoping he would pass out and sleep the night through. He opened the drawer on his desk, and pulled out the bottle of sleeping pills he had bought a week or so ago. He poured one pill into the palm of his hand, and walked to the bathroom for water after he stowed the bottle away.

Once the pill was down, he wet his toothbrush and doused it in toothpaste. Stiles stared at himself in the mirror while he brushed, silently scolding himself for the way he treated his father both last night and early this morning. _It is all my fault…_

Stiles rinsed his mouth and left the bathroom without a second glance at himself. He didn't think he could bare it. He turned to close his bedroom door behind him, knowing his father wouldn't come in when he got home…not tonight.

"Stiles…" Derek's voice floated heavily from his window.

Stiles whirled around with accusations in his eyes, but it all halted when he took the sight of his mate in. Derek's face was not like it was yesterday or the day before. His cheeks were pale, his eyes were red and swollen, and his shoulders stooped as if he had been beaten.

"Derek, what happened to you!?" Stile rushed forward, throwing his arms around Derek's shoulders and pulling him close.

"The alpha pack is gone." Derek whispered against the top of Stiles' head.

"What…?" Stiles' breath caught in his throat. "How…?"

"The pack fought them today. They're gone."

"You didn't tell me?!" Stiles' worry immediately transformed into outrage. Derek could have died today and he hadn't even bothered to tell him. Stiles could have at least _been _there with him.

"I didn't want you to get hurt." Derek stepped back from his mate. Guilt and darkness dulled his hazel eyes.

"Is everyone alright?" Stiles questioned furiously. "Did anyone get hurt?"

"Erika is badly injured, but Deaton is taking care of her. He thinks she will make it."

"They're back? WHEN?!" Stiles' voice rose again.

"They surprised all of us when they showed up and saved me." Derek looked at the ground. "I would have been dead had it not been for them."

"Is Scott okay?" The worry for his best friend broke his voice.

"Yeah… he's fine. I'm actually really proud of him and Isaac. They really held their own today." Derek murmured sadly.

"You say that like it's a bad thing…"

"Well, they each killed an alpha…" Derek paused.

"So that means—"

"They're all alphas now." Derek whispered. "They have no obligation to stay with me."

"They wouldn't abandon you." Stiles said assuredly.

"I wouldn't blame them if they did." Derek replied gravely. "I've risked their lives enough. I've risked _all_ of your lives enough."

"You protect us!"

"Stiles just yesterday what happened to you?" Derek growled.

"That's different…"

"How?" Derek challenged.

Stiles stuttered for a bit, trying to find the right thing to say.

"I thought so…" Derek concluded.

"You always rescue me though!" Stiles stepped forward, but Derek retreated closer to the windows. Stiles' heart pounded at Derek's reaction.

"Stiles…when I'm with you, you're in danger. If something were to ever happen to you like almost happened last night…"

"Derek look at me." Stiles took Derek's pale face in his hands. "I'm safe. And it's all because of you."

"I can't trust myself to keep you safe." Derek's eyes fell to the floor.

Stiles felt his breath hitch again and again. He suddenly realized where this was going.

"Derek…"He whispered, but the alpha would not look at him. "Derek…Please don't leave me." Stiles begged.

"I don't know what else to do Stiles. It's the only way you'll be safe. That is all I care about. If I can't have you, so be it. As long as I know you're alive and safe I can live on."

"What makes you think that _I_ can move on?" Stiles cried, a tear slipping from his grasp.

"Because you're strong Stiles. You are strong and have so many people who care about you. You will forget about me in time, and move on."

"We're mates Derek. We're mates for life. That's what you said! You can't deny that we are. Nothing can break that."

"I'm going to try." Derek whispered.

"W-w-what?" Stiles stammered, on the verge of sobs.

"I don't want you anymore Stiles. I can't be your mate. I'm sorry this ever happened."

"Derek…please…"Stiles begged, not knowing what else to do. "Please don't leave me… I need you."

"No you don't." Derek said. "I'm sorry Stiles. I should have never acted on my feelings, but this is it."

Stiles just stared at Derek, looking for any signs of a lie. He found none.

"I'm sorry." Were Derek's last words, and then he was gone.

In his absence, Stiles crumpled to the floor as what was left of his heart shattered into splinters.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek stared out over the city lights at the Beacon Hills overlook. He hadn't meant a word of what he said to his mate…former…that is. But if he hadn't said what he had, Stiles would have never believed him.

Derek thought back to Stiles' tear streaked face. Derek's heart burst with agony at the sight of his lover in such a state. His first instinct was to comfort away the pain he had caused, and Derek was surprised he was able to control the wolf inside of him long enough to get out. Had he given in, Stiles would be in danger for the rest of his life. Derek couldn't have that.

Stiles was safe now. He might be hurting now, but eventually he would heal. Time healed all for the bleeding human heart. Stiles would move on, find someone else to love, and live a safe and happy life far away from Beacon Hills—far away from Derek.

Derek bit his lip and clenched his fists. He grimaced as his claws dug into the skin of his palms. Stiles was safe…Stiles was gone…

A single tear slipped from his eye as he roared in agony to the heavens above.

**I'm so sorry this chapter is so long. I just couldn't find a good place to end it. Also, I apologize at the extremely shitty and confusing fight scene…I really suck at them. **


	27. Chapter 27

*****WARNING*** If prone to emotional triggers, panic attacks, anxiety, depression, etc. ****DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER.**

Stiles sighed; pulling up his jeep's parking brake. Immediately he slumped over against his steering wheel. _Breathe…Just breathe…_He told himself. He did his best to follow his own instructions with two shallow, ragged breaths. He was exhausted.

Stiles had spent the night on his bedroom floor, not moving, not sleeping…he simply laid there in a state of numb emptiness. Tears had flown freely through the nighttime hours, and Stiles had been powerless to stop them. Time had simply passed. He had heard his father come home at some time in the early morning, though the sheriff left his son undisturbed. The sun had risen around 6:30am, and it was all Stiles could do to pull himself off of the floor. It was all he could do to drag his numb body to school. It was all he could do to be here in this very moment.

_What did I do wrong? When had I fucked things up this much? _Stiles' chest clenched again, and again, and again… The pain in his heart was beyond measurable. Stiles was unsure if there even was a line which separated the emotional pain from the physical.

_It's all because of how worthless you are…_ Stiles cringed at the dark voice echoing in his head. _Did you really believe that it would last? Did you really believe you were worthy to be loved? _Stiles looked up into his rearview mirror. He saw nothing but himself—the pale cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, the hollowness of his entire being… The chapped lips in the mirror moved, signifying the whispers they passed on to his own self. _Look at your relationship with your father…_You _are the cause of his distress. _You_ are a disappointment to him. You aren't normal…you are nothing...you are imperfect…_

"Please stop…" Stiles begged with himself. "Please stop…" His lip quivered, but in the mirror, it frowned.

_You're pathetic Stiles…Crying after something you knew you had no right to have. Derek never loved you. You can't even love yourself…How could he?_

"Stop…I know okay?!" Stiles slammed his fist against the steering wheel, sounding the horn, causing himself to jump in shock.

Silence. Stiles looked back in the mirror, only seeing a red-eyed version of himself staring back at him. The lips in his reflection did not move. No words left them.

_Tap tap tap…_

Stiles turned to see his best friend staring back at him. Scott gestured that they should get to class. Stiles nodded, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, grabbing his bag, and exiting the jeep. They then entered the school silently.

"You okay?" Scott asked. Worry creasing his brow.

"No…not really." Stiles answered truthfully.

"What's wrong?" His best friend stopped in front of their chemistry class, eyes searching Stiles' features.

"A lot of things." Stiles looked at the ground.

"Like…" Scott made no move to enter class. School be damned.

"I got into a bad fight with my dad over the weekend, and we're both kinda torn up about it. I'm sure it will clear itself eventually…" _I hope. _

"I'm sure it wasn't all that bad. You're dad loves you, Stiles. You're all he has."

"I hope so." Stiles murmured, still looking at the floor.

"Is there something else?" Scott pressed.

"I'm just glad you all are okay…" Stiles stepped forward and hugged Scott tightly, hoping the action distracted the werewolf from detecting his lie. "I was really pissed that Derek told me you guys fought the alpha pack without me." His chest seared in agony at the mention of his m—of Derek's name.

"We all just wanted you safe…" Scott squeezed him back.

"How are Erika and Jackson?" Stiles looked at Scott, the faintest glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Scott gave a weak smile. "They're both still really hurt…but they're alive."

Stiles nodded.

"I know you two have a blatant disregard for the rules of society, but unless you wish to flunk this course, I suggest you get in this classroom." Mr. Harris growled, suddenly appearing in the doorway.

"Sorry." Scott muttered, and the two entered the classroom.

_It's your fault…_ The voice whispered in his ear. _Jackson and Erika are hurt because of you._ Stiles sucked in a breath as he took his seat, trying to quell the searing pain in his chest. _If you weren't so weak, Jackson wouldn't have had to protect you… If you weren't so weak, Erika would have never attacked you, and she would have never been sent away. It's always you're fucking fault. _

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut.

"Mr. Stalinski!" Mr. Harris called. "I'd appreciate it if you spent your time outside of class sleeping and being useless rather than inside my class."

"Sorry." Stiles sat up, his head pounding and his heart aching.

_All…You're…Fault… _The echo faded to a ringing in his ears.

xXxXxXxXxXx

The final bell rang, and Stiles winced as the cacophony tore through his pounding skull. He needed to get home. It was all Stiles could do to keep from sprinting to his locker. As he rounded the corner, he came to a complete halt.

Stiles found himself staring into the athletic trophy case, a spectacle of the school he saw everyday on his way to his locker. Usually, everything was plain and boring. Today, Stiles found himself petrified.

The glass of the case gave him a glimpse of himself in a faded manner. Stiles gazed at his reflection. The face staring back at him opened its mouth as if to say something.

_Imperfect…_ The echo sounded again through his head. Stiles' jaw dropped. He was going crazy, and he knew it. But the figure in the glass continued to move, and Stiles watched in horror as his reflection removed his shirt. Slowly, so slowly that Stiles wasn't sure if he actually saw it, the spectre in the glass began to bleed.

_P…E…R…F…E…C…T…_

The letters etched themselves in his reflection.

_ Oh God… _Stiles thought and then he doubled over in pain as he felt a warmth run down his sides. He looked in the glass again. The spectre smiled as more letters etched themselves again in the flesh of his reflection.

_P…E…R…F…E…C…T…_

Just as before, pain seared down his other side and he felt the warmth slither down his side. Stiles looked down at his shirt with terror in his eyes as blood began to seep through the cloth of his shirt.

Stiles shot a fearful glance back up to his reflection, but saw nothing but a case full of golden trophies. The spectre was gone. The pain disappeared immediately, and when Stiles looked down, his shirt was unsoiled.

Mystified Stiles looked around as the last of the students left their classrooms, eager to get home. It all had seemed so real. _I'm going fucking insane. _

Homework be damned, Stiles clutched his backpack closer to his back and he rushed to the parking lot. He needed someone…He needed Scott. Stiles' eyes darted this way and that, looking for his best friend.

Scott's face came into view, but then so did Allison's. Scott smiled at her happily while she let out a laugh as they both climbed into her car.

Stiles turned deftly away. _See…you don't matter…_ The dark echo sounded again. He didn't even try to fight it this time, but sprinted to his jeep. He needed to get home.

Once the seatbelt was fastened around his waist, he turned the key. The jeep roared familiarly to life, bringing a breath of calm to Stiles' lungs. He reversed, and sped out of the parking lot.

As Stiles pulled onto the main road and headed for home, he withdrew his cellphone and deftly typed some numbers in. The line rang.

"This is Sheriff Stalinski." His father's voice sounded on the other line after three rings.

"Dad…" Stiles stammered. "Hey…"

"Oh…Stiles…It's you…" His father's voice fell ever so slightly, though enough for Stiles to notice.

The painful hole where his heart should have been fell with his father's voice. "Yeah Dad it's me…" Stiles said hoarsely, trying desperately not to cry.

"Everything alright?" His father asked half-heartedly.

_No! No everything is NOT alright! _"Yeah…"

"Oh. Well that's good. Listen I have to get back to work. I'll be home late. Don't wait up for me." His father said monotonously.

"Okay." Stiles choked. This was not what he needed to hear from his father right now.

"Goodbye Stiles." His father hung up without waiting for a response.

"Goodbye Dad…" Stiles whispered into the dead line.

_Imperfect…._ Stiles' eyes bulged as he saw his reflection in the mirror again. _Did you think he would just suddenly forgive you? With all that you put him through? You don't deserve his time of day…_

Stiles tore his eyes away from the image in the rearview, and pressed his foot on the gas. The needle on the speedometer elevated itself to the 60mph mark.

Stiles didn't care how many traffic rules he had broken. He needed to get home. His breath grew quicker and more shallow… He was terrified.

In his driveway, he threw his jeep's parking brake and climbed out. Sprinting for the door he fumbled with the keys trying to get into his house. Sobs were breaking through his control.

Inside, the house was quiet. Stiles dashed up the stairs and collapsed onto his bed in a torrent of sobs while writhing in agony. Everything hurt…his head, his chest, his limbs…it all was on fire. He laid there for what seemed like forever, staining his pillowcases with tears and snot.

After a while, the sobbing had quieted, but the tears never stopped. Stiles looked at the clock, only to find about an hour had passed. The red numbers displayed 4:45pm. Stiles wiped yet another few tears from his cheek. He pulled out his cell phone, typing a memorized number onto the screen.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Scott and Allison rolled around on her bed, devouring each other's faces. Allison squealed in delight as Scott nibbled on her earlobe. She slid her hands down his beautifully muscled back, pausing at the hem of his t-shirt. Allison began to slowly pull the fabric up, and off of Scott's head. She stared hungrily at his modelesque physique.

"Are you sure?" Scott asked, a hint of worry coloring his voice. "What about your dad?"

"He won't be home for hours!" She whined, unbuttoning the top of her blouse. "Besides…We never got to celebrate our victory from yesterday."

That seemed to be sufficient enough of an answer and Scott dove forward, quite literally ripping the blouse off of her beautiful porcelain figure. He moved from her lips kissing down her jaw to her neck, and then continuing lower.

Allison gasped and shivered in pleasure at the feeling Scott's lips left on her heated skin. She felt Scott's hands fumble with the clasp on her lace bra, and she groaned before pushing his hands away. She quickly undid the clasp herself, and once free of it, she dove forward, capturing Scott's lips with hers again. Her hands moved to the button on his jeans, quickly undoing them and sliding them down his hips.

Scott's ringtone blared from his front pocket. Allison groaned. Scott reached in, and without even looking at the screen, he clicked a button effectively silencing the noise trumpeting from the device. He tossed the phone to the floor where it continued to vibrate as he pulled his jeans the rest of the way off. Allison's clothes crowned his in a pile on the floor a minute later, and nothing was heard other than the gasps and moans of the pair of lovers.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Stiles set the phone down with a shaky hand after sobbing out his voice message. Scott didn't answer. His promise was broken. Stiles was left completely alone. He was completely alone and he had no way of coping with it. Then a thought hit him in the chest like a stone mallet.

His father had a way of dealing with the loneliness. Stiles leapt from his bed and ran to his father's room and tore open every single one of his father's drawers. Digging through the contents of his sock drawer, Stiles found the object of his desire. He withdrew the large bottle of whiskey his father had drank from that previous weekend. It was still about half full.

Stiles deftly unscrewed the cap and took a long swig, nearly choking on the vile fluid as it seared down his throat. Stiles gasped for a breath and then took another long gulp, bringing the same results about.

Stiles continued this for about another half hour, when his head began to swim. Stiles looked around, taking in the sight of his father's bedroom. The walls began to dance, as did the sock and linen littered floor from where he had dug for the bottle. Stiles pressed his palms to the floor, and struggled to his feet.

Gripping the bedframe for support, he stood up fully and nearly toppled over from the head rush. His head was numb. He bent back down to retrieve the bottle and stood slowly back up. Stiles turned towards the dresser he had mutilated, gazing at the mirror on top. His reflection stared back at him. Stiles took another swig from the bottle, now used to its contents' bitter flavor. The reflection copied his action.

Stiles smiled at the normality of it…just a bit too soon.

_Unworthy…Imperfect… _The reflection whispered back at him. Then an evil gleam appeared in its eye.

"S-s-s-stop…" Stiles slurred. "P-p-please s-s-s-s-stop."

The reflection shook its head.

"I'm s-sorry!" Stiles cried out. "I wish I w-w-was p-perfect! Okay?! BUT I'M N-N-N-NOT!"

_Imperfect… _The echo came again.

"N-N-N-O!" Stiles screamed and punched the mirror with his free hand, shattering the glass and slicing open his knuckles.

The image disappeared, and blood trickled down his hand.

_Stiles…_ a different echo sounded in his head. It was a voice Stiles hadn't heard in a while…a very…long…while.

"M-m-mom?" Stiles looked around him, but saw nothing but waving walls and unsteady floors.

_Stiles…_ His mother's voice sounded again. Stiles searched the room, and then came to an abrupt stop at his father's bedside table.

On its wooden surface sat a picture frame of his mother in her wedding gown. Her face was crowned with a pearl circlet just under her veil, and her skin glowed radiantly with youth. Her eyes sparkled with the deepest brown Stiles had ever seen. She was quite literally the definition of an angel on earth. He recalled actually seeing those eyes in his memory, and the pain shot through his chest once more.

Stiles reached a shaky hand to gently pick up the frame, and he clutched it to his chest. _You'll never be like her… You never have been. _The dark echo returned. _Can you imagine the disappointment you must be to her? She was the perfect one…_

Stiles looked up in horror trying to find the source of the dark voice, but he found none. Horrified, he stumbled out of his father's bedroom bottle and frame in each hand. Stiles ran to his own bedroom and slammed the door shut before setting the two items on his desk so he could pull the shades on his window down.

_There's no running from what you are. You can't run from your flaws…_ Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the voice. _You can't run…_

Defeated, Stiles opened his eyes once more. This time, his gaze fell on an item sitting on his desk other than the bottle and his mother's photo. Next to his computer lay the moonstone pendant Derek had given to him. The only piece of family Derek had left.

Agony washed over him as the memory of that night flooded through his head. "I'm so sorry Derek…" He whispered.

Stiles' eyes then trailed involuntarily to the little wooden box at the back corner of his desk.

_Imperfect…_

Anger mixed with his despair flared in his chest as he sauntered toward the box. Lifting the lid, his eyes trailed over the blade nestled inside. He grasped his bleeding fingers around it.

Stiles then violently brought his shirt over his head so he stood in the darkening room bare chested.

_Do it…_ Stiles involuntarily heeded the command, and brought the blade to his flesh.

_P…_

He grimaced.

_E…_

_R…_

_F… _

He cried out in pain, and blood cascaded down his ribcage. He didn't care.

_E…_

_C…_

He inhaled sharply with each slice, and screamed as he dug deeper.

_T…_

Though blood now flowed freely, he still felt the agony burning within his chest.

_ Again…_ The dark voice commanded. _You deserve it…_

Stiles obliged, re-carving the word into the flesh of his stomach. When this release of crimson tide still did not bring relief he turned the blade to his arm, etching the word again. Then he did it again on his upper arm. Then again on his shoulder…and again on his other wrist…and again…and again…

Tears began to flow freely with the blood he now drew on every inch of flesh visible. The salt water stung as they trickled onto his mutilated torso, and flowed with the droplets of blood onto the floor. Stiles let the blade fall when he could bare the pain no more. He looked at the floor around him, speckled in small pools of blood. His head felt dizzy.

"Are you happy now?" Stiles begged to the air around him. "Have I done enough for you?! Am I not perfect yet?!" He grabbed the nearest item to him and threw it against the wall.

Stiles heard the shatter of glass, and he realized what he had done. The frame of his mother no longer sat on his desk top, but now lay in a bed of broken glass in the corner.

"No…no…no…" Sobs erupted from his bleeding chest. "Mom I'm so sorry!" He scrambled to retrieve the broken frame, cutting his fingertips on the glass that stuck from the picture frame. The photo inside was still intact though, to Stiles' relief.

"I miss you so much mom…" Stiles sobbed to the frame in his hands. "Every day is getting worse… and I can't deal with it anymore. I need you here. Dad needs you here. We can't…I can't…" Sobs made his voice incoherent, as tears fell from his exhausted eyes once more.

Stiles collapsed to the bloodied ground, gasping for breath. His body was on fire, both inside and out, and all he wanted was for it to end. He wanted it all to end. If only he could sleep it off…

_Sleep…_ The dark voice echoed yet again in his head. This time, Stiles did nothing to push it away. He slowly turned his gaze in to his desk, which housed the key to his way out.

_Sleep…_

Stiles felt himself being pulled toward the wooden desk. His bloodied fingers stretched out before him, pulling open the drawer and withdrawing the bottle of sleeping pills. Stiles' memory pulsed.

Scott's promise rang through his ears.

_If you ever need me…call me…text me…Hell, scream out your window and I'll come running… _Then he was gone.

Derek appeared in his mind.

_I don't want you anymore…_

Stiles saw his father's eyes.

_I wish you were _normal_. _

He gazed at the memories before him for a moment, and then lifted the broken photograph of his mother.

"I'm coming mom…" Stiles whispered.

The frame fell from his grasp and clattered to the floor, the rest of the glass shattering into splinters.

As if in a trance, he unscrewed the cap of the pill bottle and poured four or five into the palm of his hand. Stiles popped them into his mouth, and chased them down with a swig from his father's bottle. Then he poured more pills into his hand, and again swallowed them with another drink of whiskey. Then he poured more, and swallowed those… Then more…And then more still…

Stiles let the bottle drop from his hand—the clatter of the remaining pills sounded across the floor. He felt lightheaded, but Stiles knew the pills hadn't performed their miracle yet.

He knelt down onto the bloody floor next to his mother's picture, cringing in pain. He carefully picked the frame up.

"I'm coming mom…" He whispered again, as another tear fell from his swollen eyes. Then he crumpled to the ground with the frame in his hand.

A chill began to set over him, and he shivered while his eyes wept tears and his flesh oozed congealing blood.

Time passed, and the chill grew stronger. Stiles felt a cold numbness spread through his body, beginning with his feet. As this numbness spread, Stiles found that he could not move anything. His feet were heavy and cold, then his legs, and then arms.

His breath became more shallow and harder to come by. His head swam. This was it. Stiles could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness as his body grew colder by the second.

_I'm so sorry…Dad…Derek…Scott…I'm so, so sorry. _He offered this last silent prayer, hoping that somehow everyone he loved would feel it, even though none of them loved him back.

Stiles' chest was heavy, and he gripped the picture of his mother in his bloodied hand with every last ounce of strength he had. He took an inhale of breath, and when he let it go, it seemed to resonate in an echo above him. When the sound faded, Stiles gave in.

And then there was nothing.


	28. Chapter 28

**Hey you lovely people! So I got so many reactions to the previous chapter, and I have to take a moment to tell you all how honored I am that you all are so intrigued with my story and that it is a great honor to have so many people read it. You guys are wonderful and don't ever forget it. Also, I am so sorry that it took so long to get this chapter up. I was intentionally holding off on posting that way the previous chapter had more time to sink in with you lovely readers. I'm sorry. Anyways, you've waited long enough…Chapter 28!**

"With all due respect sir, may I ask why the hell you are still here?" Deputy Graham's voice floated sternly from where she stood in Sheriff Stalinksi's doorway.

"C'mon now Tara," The sheriff looked up from the paperwork on his desk that he had reviewed for the thousandth time. "We have a lot to sort out with this Charles case still…"

"How far have you gotten with it?" Deputy Graham's eyes stayed trained on him.

"Nowhere…" The Sheriff admitted. "Which is why we have the FBI in town and helping with it."

"Then leave it with the FBI…" Deputy Graham stepped towards his desk. "You're running yourself rugged. They can do a hell of a lot more with this case than we can."

"Yeah I know…I'm just—"

"You're just avoiding something."

The Sheriff chuckled—as always Deputy Graham cut straight to the chase without any bullshit. She always had a knack for finding out the truth. _She'll make one damn good sheriff one day. _

"Nothing gets past you." The Sheriff chuckled.

"That was just a shot in the dark." The deputy smiled. "But now that you've admitted it, why don't you tell me what the hell it is you're avoiding."

"I don't think that would be appropriate for the venue." Sheriff replied.

"Sir, as a Deputy I'd be happy to restrain you until you talk." She folded her arms, not forfeiting her resolve.

The Sheriff looked at her for a moment and then sighed in defeat—she wasn't going to leave.

"Alright. Stiles and I had a pretty bad fight this weekend, and we both said things we shouldn't have to each other." He admitted. "When Claudia died, I promised myself I wouldn't be one of those fathers who was never there for his kid." The Sheriff spilled. _Where the hell is all of this coming from? _Now that the dam had broken, the Sheriff found he couldn't stop what lay behind. "Turns out that is exactly what I became…one of those fathers." His eyes fell to his paper-covered desk. "You're right Tara. I'm here way too much, but I need to be… It's my job to keep this department running and to find out what the hell is going on out there. What's worse is that I never have any idea what the hell is happening and why all of these cases are so bizarre. Then I get wrapped up here and am never there for my son when he needs me, and then things happen like they did this weekend. Stiles told me that I haven't been there for him…which is true…I haven't. But then there are other variables going on here, variables with Stiles that I have no idea how to deal with. They are out of both of our control, and I shouldn't be holding him accountable but I do." Sheriff Stalinski let out another sigh. "We both just haven't been right since Claudia died."

Deputy Graham absorbed everything the Sheriff had told her for a few moments before she began speaking. "So that's why you've told me not to let him back to see you." She murmured softly.

"Right."

"Well Sheriff, you of all people should know that a problem left untouched is a problem left unsolved." Deputy Graham pointed out. "Like you've mentioned, it sounds like there is a disconnect between you and your son."

"I know that Tara, I just don't know how to un-disconnect it." The words felt funny falling off of his tongue.

Deputy Graham laughed softly. "Stiles is a teenager." She pointed out. "Understanding them is like understanding how the universe was created. There isn't a solid answer. You were in that stage once too."

"But I never had a problem with my parents." The sheriff looked back at her.

"Your mother didn't die when you were eight." She shot back. "You're family has taken a major hit Sheriff," She said lightly. "Your son lost his mother, and you lost your wife. No one is ever simply alright with that, no matter how much time has passed."

The Sheriff stared at her in awe at the insight his deputy had given him.

"You are right sir, your son needs you." She reiterated to him. "Yes, you may not have been there as much as you could have because of your job. But you were his father before you were the Sheriff, and I think you and I both know which job comes first."

"But how do I fix this?" The Sheriff asked wearily, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

"Talk to him. If he doesn't listen or want to talk, give it a day and then try again. Try as many times as you need to, Sheriff. Stiles will eventually come around. He just needs to know that you are in fact _there._" She emphasized the last word.

The Sheriff simply laughed. He knew she was right. Damn, Tara is going to go far in life.

"Alright alright, you've made your point." The Sheriff chuckled. "Let me just finish this report review—" Before he even finished his sentence, Deputy Graham had snatched the folder for the Charles case from the desk and smacked him in the back of the head with it.

"Sheriff, what in the hell did we just talk about?!" She scolded him. "You know better than to disobey a black woman. I don't care what title you have with the county."

"Alright I'm going!" The Sheriff rubbed the back of his head before putting his hands up in defeat.

"You best be, don't make me hit you again." She chuckled. "I'll take care of this review tonight, sir." Her voice softened. "You get to your other job."

The Sheriff looked at her smile. "Thanks Tara…I mean it." He said sincerely.

"Good luck Sheriff." She replied and exited the office.

The Sheriff sat back in his chair for a brief moment, reviewing what his deputy had told him tonight. He checked his watch.

9:45pm.

He still had time to pick up a pizza or something from the local pizza parlor before it closed. He would need to leave now, and that he did.

Within two minutes he was in his cruiser, driving home.

xXxXxXxXxXx

The Sheriff parked his cruiser next to Stiles' jeep in the driveway. It was now ten thirty, and the Sheriff was now a little nervous for his conversation with his son. He opened the door to his cruiser after taking a deep breath in, grabbed the extra-large meat lover's pizza he had picked up for an icebreaker, and headed inside.

Inside, the house was pitch black to his surprise, as Stiles usually left some sort of light on for when he came home. _He probably just elected not to do it because of our argument. _ That seemed plausible enough for the Sheriff. He fuddled his way through the dark foyer to the kitchen where he flipped on the light and set the pizza box down.

"Stiles!" The Sheriff called up the stairs. "I have an extra-large pizza with every edible animal on earth used as a topping! It looks extremely unhealthy so I think you should come and stop me!" Sheriff Stalinski chuckled to himself at his joke. Stiles would sure enough come running down the stairs in a moment to 'confiscate' his pizza and force him to eat a salad or something.

The Sheriff took the opportunity to unhitch his gun holster and utility belt and hang them up before he quickly grabbed a slice of pizza to eat. Stiles did not come running down the stairs.

_Damn… He must really be pissed at me._ The Sheriff was surprised to find he was a bit hurt at the realization of his son's emotions. _I guess I can't really blame him though. _The Sheriff quickly finished the last bit of his slice of pizza, and headed upstairs.

The hallway was just as dark as the foyer, and there was no light shining from under Stiles' bedroom door. _Maybe he went to bed early._ The Sheriff flicked on the hall way light and began to head towards his son's room when he saw his own bedroom from the corner of his eye.

Socks and boxers and random articles of clothing littered his bedroom floor. The Sheriff entered his own bedroom to investigate further, and he cursed under his breath when he saw the damage to its full extent when he turned his light on.

His floor was covered in the contents of his dresser and the mirror on top looked like it had been smashed with a bat. The cracked glass spider-webbed itself to the extent of the mirror, and tiny shards lay scattered on the dresser surface.

"Stiles, what the hell happened to my bedroom!?" The Sheriff thundered, immediately spinning on his heel to charge into his son's bedroom.

He threw the door open to a dark and silent room. The Sheriff hit the light switch with a violent flick of his wrist, and then he leapt back in horror.

The floor was covered in shards of broken glass and little white tablets, and the Sheriff's whiskey bottle lay empty near Stiles' desk. Dried blood covered the hardwood—then his eyes fell on the still body of his son.

Stiles' silent body lay unmoving in the center of the horrific maelstrom, his torso bare and mutilated in hundreds of congealed gashes.

"Stiles!" Sheriff Stalinski rushed forward to his son's side, his jaw agape in horror. "Stiles! STILES!" He shook the body of his son, but no response came. "STILES! WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOURSELF!?" Nothing left the pale blue lips of his son.

The Sheriff looked frantically around, the empty bottle of whiskey lay nearby, and a white plastic bottle lay next to it. White tablets surrounded it. Sheriff Stalinski reached a shaky hand to pick up the bottle.

'Maximum Strength Sleeping Tablets 100ct.' The Sheriff tossed the bottle away and saw the bloodied razor on the floor. Tears began to spill from his eyes.

"Stiles! Stiles please wake up! Please wake up! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WAKE UP!" The Sheriff screamed at his son, deftly shaking his mutilated and cold body.

His eyes trailed down the chest of his son. On every inch of his son's visible flesh, the word 'PERFECT' was etched, and the gashes looked deep and inflamed. The Sheriff pressed his ear to his son's bloody chest, praying for a heartbeat…He found none. Stiles was completely silent, and his flesh was cold.

Something metallic glinted. The Sheriff's eyes shot to what Stiles' cold hand clutched too… There, smiling at him from a mangled, shattered, and blood stained picture frame, was Stiles' mother. The last thing his son had held on to…

Tears now fell freely from his wrinkling eyes, and he was praying to anyone who could hear him. _Please let him live… please please let him live…_ He sobbed. Stiles needed to get to a hospital.

The Sheriff shoved his arms under his son's body and hoisted him up. Blood began seeping from the gashes (as they had torn open) and onto his hands. Sheriff Stalinski ran as fast he could with his son in his arms downstairs. Kicking open the front door, the sheriff rushed to his cruiser. Keeping an arm around Stiles' bleeding body, he pulled his keys out and unlocked the car. After gently laying his son in the back seat, the Sheriff sprinted to the driver's side, turned the car and his sirens on, and in seconds, was speeding through the night in the direction of Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Scott breathed in the scent of Allison's long brunette curls. She had fallen asleep to the movie they were watching. It was a flick about Reese Witherspoon trying to find out which of two secret agents was a better boyfriend yadda-yadda-yadda. Chris Argent had become tolerant of their relationship, so he had said nothing after dinner. Scott yawned.

"Hey... babe…" Scott whispered. "Allison…wake up."

She stirred, and then looked around. "Sorry…" She murmured, rubbing her eyes and stretching. "How was the movie?"

"I couldn't quite hear it over your snoring." He teased and kissed her on the cheek.

"What time is it?" She groaned.

"I'm not sure. I think I left my phone in your room." Scott replied.

After looking at the clock on the wall, they both found that it was a bit past 11:30pm.

"I'd better go." Scott whispered.

"If you have to…" She pouted, and Scott made up for it with a quick kiss.

They both threw off the afghan they had covered themselves in preparation for the movie, and headed back up to Allison's room to grab Scott's things.

Scott slipped his shoes on and retrieved his phone from the floor where he had tossed it earlier. Unlocking the screen he saw he had seven missed calls.

"Damn I'm popular." Scott chuckled to Allison, while checking who the missed calls were from.

Six were from the hospital, undoubtedly his mom. _Shit, I forgot to bring her dinner…_ Scott scolded himself. The other was from Stiles, and there was a voicemail. Entering his voicemail box, the robot commanded him to type in his password.

"You have one unheard message…First unheard message…"

"Um…."There was a short break in Stiles' voice. "Hey Scott… Look I—"

The message was cut short of a long beep signifying an incoming call. Frustrated, Scott checked who was interrupting Stiles' message. The hospital number portrayed itself on the screen.

"Hello?" Scott answered.

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!" His mother yelled from the other side of the line. Various beeps and announcements of the ER sounded in the background.

"I was watching a movie with Allison and I forgot my phone in her room…" He replied defensively. "I'm sorry I forgot your dinner."

"I don't care about dinner." Melissa retorted into the line. "I just thought you would like to know that Stiles is here."

"Why is Stiles there?" Scott asked, confused. "He called me earlier, but I didn't know it was him. Is he looking for me? What does he want?"

"No Scott, Stiles isn't here for you." His mother's voiced dropped. "Stiles was admitted here into the ER about forty five minutes ago…"

"What happened to him?!" Scott's stomach dropped. "Is he alright? What happened?"

"Scott what's wrong?" Allison said from his side, worry saturating her voice.

"Honey…" Melissa said solemnly. "He tried to kill himself…"

Scott's jaw dropped and his heart plummeted into his stomach. The breath left his lungs, and his head began to spin. He reached out for Allison to support him.

"I'll be there in ten minutes." Scott whispered hoarsely and hung the line up. "We have to go."

"Scott! Hold on a minute! Go where?! What's wrong?!"

"Allison we don't have time!" Scott yelled at her. "Stiles tried to commit suicide and is in the hospital as we speak!"

Allison's hands flew to her mouth and her eyes bulged.

"Let's go." Scott growled and sprinted for downstairs, Allison close on his heels.

Angry thoughts raced through his mind. Scott cursed himself, cursed the fates, cursed Derek…everything. Worry stuck to his heart like glue, and his breath was shallow and hard to come by.

They both climbed into Allison's car, and sped towards the hospital. The drive was usually about twenty minutes, as the hospital was in the center of Beacon Hills. Allison and Scott made it in about five.

They didn't even bother to find a decent parking spot; they simply found an empty one and dashed from the car towards the emergency wing as quickly as possible.

Before entering, Scott through his head back and roared to the sky above, signaling to Derek and the pack that something was wrong and that they needed to be there.

Then they entered together, praying that Stiles would be alright.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek strolled aimlessly through the dark woods. It was something he did shortly after his family had died. Being one with the dark forest around him somehow made him feel less alone in life, and that was something Derek desperately needed. With Stiles out of his reach forever, Derek had felt more alone now than he had in his entire life.

His eyes turned skyward, looking into the face of the half-moon above his head. The stars speckled the sky, twinkling with a whimsical beauty. Then an echo broke the silence.

Scott's roar sounded through the night—signaling for help…signaling that something was wrong.

_The alpha pack is gone…what kind of help would Scott need?_ All Derek wanted to do was ignore the call. Scott could handle himself, and Derek was in no mood to be with anyone. His inner wolf however, had other ideas. This was an instinct Derek could not refute. The wolf lived for the pack, so when one called for help, he could not refuse.

In frustration, Derek turned and sprinted in the direction of Scott's howl.

xXxXxXxXxXx

The Sheriff held his head in his hands. There was no one in the waiting room other than himself, Scott, and Allison. The hospital staff wouldn't let him see his son.

The tears in Sheriff Stalinski's eyes would not dry up. On they poured in an endless cascade of darkened sadness. The Sheriff had never felt this worthless in his entire life. His son was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it except sit. He shook with a sob.

Allison turned her teary-eyed consolation from Scott to rub a soothing hand onto Sheriff Stalinski's back. Scott squeezed her other hand.

The outside doors slid open automatically, and Scott's red and swollen eyes shot up. Derek strode in, originally wearing an expression of anger which soon morphed into worry when he laid eyes on the crying trio.

Scott stood to meet him.

"Scott…what's going on?" Derek asked, his voice guarded.

"It's Stiles…" Scott choked out.

"What happened…" Derek's eyes immediately shifted to a glowing ruby.

"He…" Scott inhaled a shaky breath. "Tried to commit suicide."

Derek's world stopped. Everything went quiet…everything except his heartbeat. It pounded in his chest, so hard that Derek feared it would rip itself out from underneath his sternum. Scott's eyes fell to his chest, seeming to see the erratic pulse.

"I'm scared Derek." Scott whispered.

"What did he do?" Derek's voice choked out hoarsely. The alpha within him whimpered. He couldn't tough this out. Not when it came to Stiles.

"Stiles' dad said he found him in his bedroom on the floor. There was broken glass and sleeping pills everywhere. He said Stiles had cut himself…so many times. His entire body was covered in blood…"

Derek's heart shattered at the thought of Stiles hurting himself the way he used too.

"He also overdosed on sleeping pills and alcohol…" Another tear slid from Scott's eye.

"He's going to be okay right?" Derek pleaded. His voice was nothing above a whisper, bruised and broken.

"His dad said he couldn't find a heartbeat…" Scott looked down.

Derek stepped back. Stiles had to make it. He just had too… Derek's mind began racing, begging the heavens to spare his mate's life. Stiles couldn't die…

"What's he doing here…" It wasn't a question.

Derek looked up to see the Sheriff glowering at him with swollen, watery eyes.

"The same thing you are." Derek growled back. "I'm here for Stiles."

"You have no place here. You have no place with my son…" The Sheriff spat back.

"Mr. Stalinski please…" Scott stood between them. "You have no idea how much Stiles means to Derek."

"Oh I know how they are together." The Sheriff retorted. "But he isn't worthy of my son."

"I know." Derek stepped forward. "Stiles deserves way better than the likes of me. I told him as such just a few days ago. He can do so much better. But for right now, until I know that he is safe…I'm going to be here."

"I don't want you around him."

"I'm going to stay." Derek said with finality. "I love your son. Nothing will change that, and you can't stop it."

The Sheriff's eyes bulged, Scott's jaw dropped, and Allison's lips quivered at Derek's declaration.

"I know you don't approve Sheriff, but that's just how it is going to be."

The Sheriff stared at Derek for a moment, and then his eyes wavered. He turned as another sob wracked his body.

There was a noise, and then a gentle slam of a heavy wooden door. Melissa McCall walked wearily from it.

The Sheriff straightened immediately and rushed to meet her.

"Is he okay?! Is he alive?! Will he make it?!" He rained the questions on her before they even met.

"He's alive…" Melissa said solemnly.

Sheriff Stalinski visibly relaxed, though worry still tinted his eyes.

"His heartbeat was extremely low when he was admitted—so low the EKG could hardly detect it."

"What about everything else?" The Sheriff choked.

"Well…" Scott's mom searched for the correct words. "Stiles put himself through quite an episode of physical trauma. He lost a copious amount of blood through his self-inflicted wounds, which in and of itself would have made him theoretically easy to treat. However, the intake of alcohol coupled with the overdose of those sleeping pills sent his body into a type of metabolic shock. The loss of blood left him virtually defenseless against it. His body was already weakened, and the surplus of what he digested caused his systems to go into shock."

"He's not awake is he?" The sheriff looked at her, all hope seemingly vanished.

"No. An overdose of drugs usually causes the body to go into the shock I just described. We call it an Induced Coma. The doctors extracted what they could from his stomach, but there wasn't much. Most of what Stiles took had already been absorbed by his system. They gave him a blood transfusion as well, but all we can do now is wait and see if he wakes up…"

"He _will _wake up won't he?" Scott stepped toward his mother.

"That's the difficult part." She looked toward the floor. "Being in this type of coma, he is completely unresponsive and incapable of voluntary movement. The longer he stays under, the more likely his to enter a vegetative state… The longer he stays under, the less likely it is that he will wake up…"

Allison's eyes filled with tears and she grabbed Scott's hand. Derek swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions at bay. Stiles' father just stared on, feeling like he had been hit in the chest with a sledge hammer.

"I'm glad you got him here when you did… had it been an hour more and he would've been beyond our help." She looked into the Sheriff's eyes.

The Sheriff gulped. "Can I see him?" He begged her.

"Follow me." She nodded, and the group followed her down the hall.

Within a few moments, she stood outside a curtained cubical, which she gently withdrew.

The Sheriff's intake of breath was audible as his eyes found the pale, motionless face of his son inside.

There Stiles lay, his arms, and what was visible of his shoulders underneath the hospital gown were wrapped securely in gauze, and an oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose. An IV tube stuck out from his left wrist, and a slow rhythmic beep sounded in place of his heartbeat. His dark-circled eyes remained closed.

Sheriff Stalinski, Scott, Allison, and Derek encircled Stiles' bed. Tears fell freely from everyone's eyes except for Derek's. On he stared at the still body of his mate.

In trying to protect him, Derek had sentenced Stiles to death. From what he heard, there was a good chance that Stiles wouldn't wake up, though Derek was now willing to barter anything and everything he had just to ensure that Stiles _would_ wake up. But standing there, looking at Stiles' pale face, knowing what he had done to himself—it was too much for Derek to bear. He felt it building inside him. Tears welled in his eyes. Stiles couldn't die. He just couldn't. Derek needed him… _It's all my fault… _

Before his emotions could take the best of him, Derek spun on his heel and hurried out of the ward, sprinting away into the darkness.

Meanwhile, the Sheriff gently stroked his son's forehead before he bent forward and placed a soft kiss where his hands had just caressed. This was his son…

The Sheriff blamed himself…Had he been there for his son, Stiles would still be awake. He wouldn't be standing here in a dark emergency room praying that the life of his son would be spared. Everything would have been alright. _It's all my fault…_ Tears began to flood down his cheeks again.

Scott stood next to Allison, who simply stared at Stiles' enfeebled body. Stiles had tried to call him today. Scott had the chance to save his best friend, and he had thrown it away in ignorance. He had broken his promise to Stiles. He wasn't there when Stiles needed him.

Scott turned from Allison, the Sheriff, and his mother, and stormed out of the cubical. He could feel the breath rushing in and out of his lungs… He found a corner in the waiting room, and slid down it to the floor. He pulled out his cellphone.

Opening his voice mailbox, he held the device to his ear.

"You have one skipped message…" Scott waited. "First skipped message…"

"Umm…" Stiles' voice broke. He had clearly been crying. "Hey Scott… Look, I know you are probably busy with Allison and everything, but I was really hoping to talk to you…Something's really wrong Scott…and I have no idea what to do… I feel like I'm going insane and there isn't anything I can do about it…which is why I was hoping you'd answer…I need you to help me through this. I don't think I can handle feeling this way anymore Scott, I just can't. My dad…I screwed up so bad… and everything I say and do seems to make it all worse. There's no end to it… I'm sinking. I can't breathe anymore and it is all I can do to keep my panic attacks at bay. I need you Scott…I really…really…need you. Please help me through this Scott…I can't do it by myself anymore… If you get this…please come get me. You've always been like my brother Scott…you've always made everything better, and even just a few moments with you will help me through this. I've pushed my Dad away, Derek's pushed me away…You're all I have now… So please…if you can…please please call me back. I really need you..."

"End of message…To repeat this message—" Scott ended the program.

Stiles had cried his heart out to Scott's voicemail, and Scott didn't even so much as return his call. Scott buried his head between his knees, sobs wracking his entire body. _If I had only just answered his fucking phone call…._Scott screamed at himself. _I could have saved him… I could have saved him…_ Scott shook all over and tears flowed freely down his cheeks. _I'm so sorry Stiles… It's all my fault and I'm so sorry… _

Scott could have saved him…

Derek could have saved him…

His father could have saved him…

But no one was there.

xXxXxXxXxXx

He shivered…

Stiles looked around, finding nothing but an expanse of misty white. He looked down at himself, finding what looked like a hospital robe. Then it hit him like a speeding bus.

Stiles saw himself standing in his bedroom, writhing in agony and screaming at someone who was not in the room. His body was mangled in bleeding gashes which spelled the word 'PERFECT' over and over and over again. They covered his entire torso. Stiles looked down, finding nothing but the hospital gown on his own body. His skin seemed untouched.

The memory disappeared, leaving Stiles gasping in fear.

"Stiles…" the whisper echoed around him.

Stiles immediately stood poised, waiting to hear the echo again.

"Stiles…" Stiles felt something warm on his shoulder.

He whirled around before doubling back in shock at what he saw.

"Mom?"


	29. Chapter 29

**Dear folks, I'm SO sorry for the length of time it took me to get this damn chapter posted. Life has been a bitch: I started classes last week and have absolutely no time to myself, cheer practice and work have been a major ho, and on top of everything else I had a death in the family. So, again I apologize. Anyway, thank you so much all of you who have stuck with me this far. Please continue to review/comment/follow/favorite. Here is chapter 29!**

_Two days had passed…_

_Which then flowed into three…_

There Stiles lay… silent and pale…

Flowers, balloons, and Get Well cards littered every table in the room.

"Why are those waves moving like that?" The sheriff questioned Melissa McCall, pointing to the screen next to his son's hospital bed.

"Believe it or not, sometimes the motor function of the brain can be disproportionately high while incapacitated." She answered him… "Those waves would be the subconscious activity of the brain."

"Which means…?" Sheriff Stalinski pressed. "Is it an indicator he might wake up?"

"Unfortunately no…" Her eyes portrayed the earnestness of her apology. "That is always unpredictable."

The Sheriff merely sighed in response…his hopes crestfallen once again. Melissa moved to embrace him, hospital policy be damned…this man was practically a father to her son. He returned the hug half-heartedly.

"I get off in an hour… why don't we go get a bite to eat?" She tried to sooth him.

"I…I should probably stay with him." The Sheriff returned his gaze to the body of his son, his jaw was tight. _I'm going to be here for him this time…_

"I'll order delivery then." Melissa nodded, and left him to call her personal delivery man.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Scott had been in the hospital with the rest of them whenever he could. He usually had a stash of take-out ready for his mother—adding another order wouldn't be a problem.

Scott, like everyone, felt guilty for the current state of his best friend, and it showed. His shoulders stooped wherever he went, and his lips seemed to mold themselves in a permanent frown. Not even Allison could coax the gentle spark back into his brown eyes. For the past three days, nightmares haunted both his sleep and daydreams in a continuous flood of remorse and shame.

It had only taken him an hour or so to hand the pizza box across the nurse's station to his mother, before following her to see his best friend. Though the past three days were spent in nothing but prayer, Scott found that his pleas remained unanswered as Stiles slumbered on.

His mother's hand rested on his shoulder. "The Sheriff and I will leave you alone for a few minutes…Thanks for the pizza." She stepped away, leaving Scott alone with Stiles in the cold ICU room. The door clicked shut behind her.

Scott hesitated a moment, and then pulled a chair to Stiles' bedside. He sat heavily, and rested his face in his palms.

"Stiles…" Scott whispered. "Stiles…" He said again, this time a bit louder.

There was nothing but the beeping of Stiles' heart monitor. Scott continued.

"I need you to listen to me…Wherever you are…please give me what I never gave you…" Scott's voice quivered in agony and guilt. "Please hear me… I need you here. We all need you here…I know I don't have a right to complain about anything...because it's all my fault that things are the way they are. Had I been there for you like I promised I would…you'd still be here…you'd still be alright. But I wasn't… I broke my promise and now I'm not sure that I'm ever going to see you again…I'm not sure I'm ever going to hear your voice, or your stupid jokes…I'm not sure I'll get my best friend back…I'm not sure I'll get my brother back…."

Scott's breath quivered in a shallow effort to keep the sobs at bay. Icy tears slid down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry about everything…I know an apology can't even begin to cover what I did to you, and I won't blame you if…wherever you are…you don't forgive me. We both know it should be me who is on the verge of dying—not you… You were always the good one. You thought things through… you kept me in check…you always did the right thing…and you always pushed me to do the right thing. That's why I need you. You were the one good thing in this world that never died away. You were the hope for humanity—for sanity. When everything felt like it was going to complete shit…you made it better… And that's why you need to wake up…Please…Stiles don't leave me…Please…Please…Please…"

The sobs silenced the rest of Scott's pleas. His entire body shook and Scott cried—he cried harder than he ever had before in his life.

xXxXxXxXxXx

_Three days drifted to four…_

_And four melded into five…_

_Then, as if in the blink of an eye, a week had passed…_

Derek stepped slowly through the woods. His eyes remained on the earth, not looking any higher than a few feet in front of him…He was broken.

The forest he strode through—the very forest he once called his only refuge—held nothing but the overbearing sounds of life and the ever present silence of deadly nightmares. Derek had no refuge, for it was beyond anywhere he could reach.

Thunder boomed overhead, but Derek's eyes did not leave the ground to meet it. A cold wind swept through the trees, and though it nipped at his cheeks, Derek refused to show discomfort—he had no right to. He huffed out a breath.

It was time to go see Stiles, though Derek had long since given up hope for a difference in his mate's condition. _It's all your fault…_ He nodded as he accused himself.

Derek had lost count of how many times he had relived the moment of walking through the hospital doors…and seeing Scott's eyes…and hearing Sheriff Stalinski's sobs…and learning what he had done to Stiles.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that by some miracle, the memory would be banished from his conscience. Of course, Derek was undeserving of such grace.

Derek turned in the direction of his house, prepared to go meet the grim reminder of how badly he had burned everything good in his life.

xXxXxXxXxXx

. His body knew where to take him, so Derek let himself be pulled to the room where his refuge lay silently. Derek stepped off of the elevator, having finally made it to the Intensive Care Unit of the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital.

He approached the door and stepped through. Inside, Scott and Stiles' father sat on either side of the bed. The dark circles under each of their eyes portrayed that of course, nothing had changed.

Scott looked up at his fellow alpha, and he stood. The Sheriff remained where he was, not looking at Derek.

"How are you holding up?" Scott whispered.

"I'm here." His gaze remained fixed on the sleeping boy.

The Sheriff then shot a glance at pair.

"Right…" Scott said. "I'll be leaving now."

Derek made no move to leave. He simply stood there for a moment when Scott closed the door behind him. Stiles' heartbeat beeped into the room.

Then Derek spoke. "I know my being here makes you uncomfortable."

Sheriff Stalinski did not respond.

"But I'm here for your son. You know how I feel about him. But you are right." Derek's jaw clenched. "I'm no good for your son. It's all my fault that this happened. If I were to have been there, he would still be awake…He would still be here. I should have never left his side, but I did…and every promise I ever made him was shattered." Derek had no idea why he was spilling all of this to Stiles' father. The man wanted him dead after all. "I just want you to know, that if Stiles pulls through this, I will not intervene. I'll get out of Stiles' life and I'll leave your son alone. He deserves so much better than me…I see that now. I'm the reason he is the way he is. My sorrow can never compensate for what I've done." Derek felt he could say no more.

There was a long pause.

"No." The Sheriff whispered hoarsely.

Derek turned to gaze at the man sitting in the chair who had turned to him.

"What?"

"If Stiles pulls through this…" The Sheriff choked on a sob. "If my son wakes up, you are to _never_ leave his side again…" He stood. "I was never there for my son…I was never the father he needed, and I am sure a great deal if not all of what has happened is my fault. But you made him happy… I've seen it… The past few weeks, there has been a glimmer in Stiles' eyes that hasn't been there since before his mom died. He slept with a smile on his face for once in his life, and it was all because you were with him."

Derek couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"In my arrogance, I believed you to be all wrong for him…but you were the one holding him together—you were the once who began to fix my son. When I told him that you were not to be in the picture, I saw the cracks in his character begin to show again. I won't make that mistake again…My son needs you, and you need him. I see that now…" Tears began falling down his wrinkled cheeks. "So I'm telling you Derek Hale…If Stiles wakes up, then I swear to God you better be there. From the moment his eyes open you will be there for him until the day they close permanently. If you aren't, I will personally drag you to the deepest level of hell any man can ever go to…You _will_ be a part of my son's life. I know he loves you, and I know you love him… I want you there for him…to love him…to hold him…Let this be my approval. Let this tell you that you hold my son's future in your hands. From this point I will not negotiate."

Derek was awestruck. The Sheriff's change of heart literally knocked the wind from his lungs. Derek was almost waiting for a "Psych! Don't you ever fucking come near my son again!" It never came. But the Sheriff wanted Derek in Stiles' life… Derek was given another chance…

The Sheriff stretched out a hand. Derek looked at it momentarily, and then grasped it firmly with his own.

"I'll be there Sheriff…I promise…" Derek replied though still in shock.

"Good."

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek drove on in a daze. He wasn't sure where exactly he was going, but all he knew was that something was guiding him to wherever his destination was.

The Sheriff's words replayed in Derek's head over and over. Derek had the blessing of his mate's father. _If Stiles makes it through this, then I'll be there. I won't fuck it up this time… I promise. _

After his silent covenant with the Sheriff, Derek began to take in his surroundings. Then the blue jeep came into view. Derek found himself in front of Stiles' house.

_What the hell am I doing here?_ Derek groaned at himself. This was not where he should be. It would only serve to reopen his wounded heart. It didn't matter. Derek was a glutton for punishment. He was a masochist, so he opened the door of his Camaro and strode up the drive way.

Making his way around to the side of the house, Derek leapt up to the window sill—a movement he hadn't done in over a week. He had purposefully avoided everything that could possibly resurface a memory of his mate. None of it helped of course, but he still did without the physical reminders—except tonight. Thunder boomed yet again in the cloudy blackness above.

Derek gently slid the window open, and crawled inside. He looked around. Stiles' room seemed shrouded in a sense of artificial normality. Derek knew that this was where his mate had completely succumbed to the darkness of his mind, and attempted to end his own life. Derek assumed however, that since that night the Sheriff had cleaned the room and returned it to a normal manner.

There was nothing out of the ordinary. Derek sniffed the air. Stiles' rainy scent still rose from everything in the room. Derek's heart clenched in longing.

He continued to look around however, relishing the smell that was utterly Stiles as it surrounded him. It reminded Derek of Stiles' skin and hair. It reminded Derek of those deep, brown, and doe-like eyes. It reminded Derek of the porcelain cheeks and tender touches. Derek bit his lip. He would not cry.

Derek turned to the desk on the wall a few feet from him, and his eyes came to rest on the moonstone pendant that lay atop the wooden frame. His breath hitched in his throat. Stiles had kept his present.

Derek lightly stepped over to it, and with a hesitant and careful hand, lifted it from its resting place. The stone did not give off its illustrious shimmer of blue as there was no light in the room nor was there the moon above. Thunder sounded yet again.

He simply stood there, holding the necklace in the palm of his hand. It was getting harder to control himself, and so he stepped away from the desk. He would not cry.

With the third boom of thunder, a light patter began to tap at the glass of the window and on the room. It was raining. Soon, it cascaded down from the heavens.

Derek sat on Stiles' bed, listening to the tears of the sky. The rainy scent of Stiles wafted from the sheets, encircling Derek in an aura of longing. With the hand that wasn't holding the necklace, Derek gently stroked the cotton comforter beneath him. It hurt that he had spent so many nights in this bed with the love of his life, and now he sat on it alone. It felt almost heinous.

Derek however, ignored the feeling of self-repulsion and laid back. Stiles' scent erupted around him, and the necklace suddenly felt heavy in his hand. _God I miss him so much…_ Derek's lip quivered.

The memory of that first night he spent in this room played through his head… how Stiles had fallen asleep in his arms, crying. Then the memory of the night when they mated flooded his mind. Derek could still hear the single heartbeat that signified their union. Derek remembered how Stiles' eyes filled with tears the moment he had told Stiles that he couldn't be with him anymore. His chest collapsed.

_Let this be my approval. Let this tell you that you hold my son's future in your hands. From this point I will not negotiate _The Sheriff's declaration from a few hours prior sounded in his head.

Derek's breath shook.

_I love you Derek…_ Stiles' voice echoed through the room, whether in actuality or only in his mind, Derek did not know.

And that was it… Derek clutched the moonstone pendant to his chest and wrapped himself in Stiles' blankets and his scent. Then the dam broke, and life time of tears spilled from his eyes.


	30. Chapter 30

**Hello my lovely readers. I'm so so sorry for not getting this update up sooner. I just want to thank all of you for the prayers you sent me. That meant so much coming from you all. I'll try to have the next update up as soon as I can. Thank you above all for sticking with this bag of donkey shit. It means a lot to me. Please continue to review/favorite/follow. I love you all! Stay beautiful!**

Stiles stared at the sight of his mother before him; the sheer beauty of her left his jaw agape in awe.

"Mom?" Stiles asked again, his voice no more than a whisper.

She smiled, seeming to glow even more so than she already was. His mother looked just as she had in Stiles' memory. Her honey-glowing hair gently cascaded down her shoulders in lush, golden waves. The porcelain of her skin glowed ever so slightly in a manner Stiles could only equate to divinity. From her shoulders draped a gown of flowing silk whiter than anything Stiles had ever seen, which pooled around her bare feet like milk. But above all, the most stunning feature about her was her eyes. As Stiles gazed into their depths, he saw the doe-like caramel that colored his own…his mother's eyes were just as his were.

"My little boy." Though her voice rang with the beauty of a thousand angels, her smile withered and her eyes darkened with sadness.

Stiles reached a hesitant hand forward, desperate to feel the touch of his mother once again. She met his fingers with a caress of her own, from which Stiles felt a pulse of something he hadn't felt in a very long time—it spread through him warmly... Stiles felt unconditional love.

He rushed forward, diving desperately into the embrace he had tried in vain to replicate for the past eight years with the blankets and pillows of his bed. Tears were on the verge of spilling over.

"I miss you mom…" Stiles choked from the nape of her neck. He felt her hands gently caress the back of his head.

"I'm so sorry Stiles…I'm so, so sorry…For everything you have dealt with…" She murmured into his ear.

They stayed there for an unknown amount of time, nothing occurring but a long embrace from a broken family.

"Stiles…" His mother whispered.

Stiles turned his gaze towards her, the wells of agony about to spill forward.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you…from all of this…" She murmured, her eyes mirroring Stiles'. "You shouldn't be here."

Stiles bit his lip as a single tear slid down his cheek.

"I just wish there was a way I could have shown you I was with you through it all." His mother cupped his cheek with a soft hand. "No mother can bear the thought of her own child in so much pain."

Stiles averted his eyes. He didn't want to think that his mother had suffered along with him in his personal hell—what son would do that?

"I'm the one who should apologize…" He whispered.

"Stiles, this is not your fault." His mother answered. "What you felt was real…beyond real, and you had no one to turn to." Her gaze saddened still. "You shouldn't be here yet… it's not your time."

Stiles looked at the unrecognizable expanse of white around them. "Where exactly is _here_?"

"This is your Arcadia." She replied. "Your 'in-between'."

"Am I dead?" Stiles asked.

His mother hesitated. Stiles' eyes begged for an answer.

"Am I dead?" He repeated, desperate to know.

"Well…" His mother took his hand. "You can be if you so choose…That's why I'm here." Her voice wavered. "I've been sent to be your envoy."

"To where?" Though Stiles knew the answer even before the words flew from his lips.

"On." She replied, meeting his gaze.

"So…" Stiles inhaled. "Heaven is real?"

She nodded. "As real as everything you've been through."

Stiles bit his lip. "Why couldn't I feel you?"

"I wish more than anything that I could have been there to help you…" She lowered her gaze. "I understand that you felt you were alone, and though there wasn't a day that went by for you where I wasn't there, I know that you were hurting so much that you couldn't feel it. I would have given anything to take it all away."

"Why did it all hurt so badly?" Stiles' voice withered into the whimper of a child—the eight year old child who had lost his mother.

"That isn't my place to answer. All I know, is that you are loved…by your father, by your friends, by me…by Derek."

Stiles' breath caught in his throat at the mention of his former mate's name.

"He loves you so much Stiles…He was the answer to every prayer you ever made."

"Then why did he leave me?" Stiles shot back. "I needed him and he just left!"

"You can find the answers to that Stiles…" She murmured to him.

"How?"

"Look back to them. Relive your memories…visit them now. Just because you're here, doesn't mean that you are separated…"

Stiles huffed a short sigh. Hadn't everyone already made their intentions towards him perfectly clear? Stiles recalled the last night he had seen Derek…the sheer cold that swelled within his hazel eyes, the tight roughness of his voice when Derek pushed him away…

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, and he felt his mother's arms encircle him in an all-too familiar way. He sank into the warmth. "I don't know…" He whispered hoarsely.

"They really do love you…" She rubbed gentle circles of comfort onto his back.

There was a short pause.

"I'm so sorry mom…" Stiles began whimpering again.

"Stiles…listen to me." She whispered firmly. "You could not control what you were feeling. I watched over you and your father all these years and I've seen how strong you have both been. I'm the one who should apologize…You both needed me, yet I wasn't there."

"But that's not your fault…" Tears leaked from Stiles' eyes. "It's not your fault you got sick. It's all my fault that I'm here. I just wanted all of the pain to go away…"

"Shhh….shhh…" She whispered to him as they both sank to their knees in the embrace. "It's alright. I'm here."

_If only she could have held me like this…_Stiles could not stop the cascade of tears running down his cheeks. _Maybe I wouldn't be here…_ Could it really be like his mother told him? Did Derek still love him? _Why did he let me go?_ Stiles cried harder…and harder…and harder still…

His mother began to hum something all-too dear to his heart…And the melodic hums soon became words.

"Lay down your head, and I'll sing you a lullaby…Back to the years of loo-li-lai-lay…"

The lullaby sounded softly in the air around, lulling him into a state of calm. His sobs subsided as his mother carried on in her angelic voice.

As the soft words drifted to a close, Stiles found himself breathing easily for the first time in a long while. The white mists around them swirled beautifully, and warmth of the light all around embraced them both.

"I've missed that…" He whispered.

His mother smiled. The two sat still for an insurmountable amount of time, doing nothing but relishing the company of a mending familial bond. Stiles' mind began to wander.

"Do I really have a choice?" His voice was meek and unsure of the answer it would receive.

"Yes." His mother replied, squeezing him gently. "You are one of the few lucky ones who have the ability to choose your fate."

"Why is that?" Stiles questioned. "What makes me so special?"

"Well you are still alive…that is, your heart is still beating on earth. As long as it still does, you can go back—if you wish too."

"If I do go back…what will happen to you?" He turned to gaze at her caramel eyes.

"Everything will go back to the way it was before. I'll still be watching over you and your father."

"I don't want to leave you…"Stiles grasped her hand, and curled further into her embrace.

"I want more than anything to be there for you, honey." She murmured. "But…you're father needs you. Every day I wish I could be with him back home. You Stiles, you are all he has left. He needs you so much. And so does your lover."

Stiles bit his lip. "You think so?"

"I've seen how he would watch you while you slept in his arms. I've seen the love that pours from his eyes every time you are near him…" She breathed. "There is no doubt."

"Do you approve?"

"Stiles... He made you happy. He made you feel loved. Though he did hurt you, he did it for fear that something would happen to you because of him." She continued. "Like your father, he needs you." His mother looked into the distance and pointed her finger. "See?"

The misty white began to shimmer from the command of her finger, and Stiles found himself scrying into a mirage of his bedroom. There, Derek stood in front of his desk. Stiles took a deep inhale of breath. Derek looked rugged. His cheeks were pale under a longer-than-usual five o'clock shadow, and there were deep circles under his eyes. His shoulders hunched and his head seemed to bow from some Herculean effort. Yet despite all of this, Derek's beauty still left Stiles speechless and full of longing.

He disentangled himself from his mother's embrace, stood, and stepped cautiously towards the phantasm before him. Derek continued to look around; a deep sadness in his eyes. Stiles watched as Derek stepped cautiously towards the bed, and sat hesitantly. His chest seemed to shudder, as if Derek was trying his best to not break down. Stiles reached a careful hand forward, wishing he could console the man he loved. It merely passed through the mirage as if it were nothing but smoke.

"I love you Derek…" Stiles said softly.

Derek's head lifted slightly, as if having heard the voice, but then broke. He laid back onto Stiles' bed and let go. Tears flowed freely from his eyes and he wrapped himself in Stiles' blankets.

The mirage faded away.

Stiles heard his mother stir before he felt her gentle, warm touch on his shoulder.

"You've made your choice." She said, her voice passive and difficult to read.

"I miss you so much mom…" Stiles bowed his head, trying not to cry for the thousandth time. "But—"

"But they need you." She finished for him. "Stiles look at me." She gently cupped his chin with her hand.

Stiles obliged, gazing at her with deep wells of hurt and internal conflict.

"I will be with you." His mother murmured, and pointed to his chest. "I'm in here—and that will never change." She gave a soft smile.

Stiles' lip quivered and he lurched forward, cradling himself into his mother's embrace for the last time.

"I love you mom."

"I love you Stiles…" She squeezed him back with fervor. "More than you'll ever know."

Stiles stepped back and wiped the tears from his eyes.

"I'll always be watching you." She stepped forward, and pressed a quick and tender kiss onto his cheek.

She turned and began stepping away, but then paused and turned. "Oh, and Stiles?"

"Yeah Mom?" He sniffed back his emotions.

"Tell your father I love him."

"I will." Stiles promised.

His mother smiled. Her body began to glow, seeming to fade into the light as it engulfed her. Then she was gone.

A sharp, cold wind burst around Stiles' body, nearly knocking him over. The glorious white mists were swept away, the light faded, and the warmth was snuffed out from the air around him…

Stiles began to fall. He felt his breath leave his lungs as he plummeted into nothing but abysmal blackness. Pain seeped into his limbs, growing more potent with each passing moment of the fall, and a deep cold bit him to his core. Confused and disoriented, he continued to fall as his body was wracked by such severe pain that he tried to cry out in agony. His lungs, however, wouldn't allow him such a mercy.

Then, without warning, he crashed onto cold, hard ground. He cried out in agony as the cold silence crept in around him, swallowing the last of the bliss he had felt mere moments before. Stiles felt weak. His limbs became numb, and he found he couldn't move them.

Stiles took a shallow inhale of breath, grimacing in agony as if his chest had been completely shattered. When he let it go, he succumbed to the blackness—and his eyes closed.


End file.
